


Terrible Things

by LookingForTheSky



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: (chokes back tears) im s o sorr y, Angst, Baseball Player!Pidge, F/M, Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Flashbacks, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I will add tags as the story progresses, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Past Character Death, Past Child Abuse, Pianist!Allura, Pianist!Coran, Pianist!Keith, Shigatsu wa Kimi no Uso | Your Lie In April AU, Soccer Player!Hunk, i made Rover a human dude bc i was kinda out of options and im not sorry, im ready to fuck shit up so buckle up, violinist!lance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-04
Updated: 2016-10-29
Packaged: 2018-08-13 01:43:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 54,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7957450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LookingForTheSky/pseuds/LookingForTheSky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was the spring of his 18th year, when Keith's world finally erupted in colors.</p><p>Of course, it was the fault of the guy with the melodica, for being so cute.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Spring

**Author's Note:**

> when u only wanna write Keith wearing ur flannel shirt jacket and black skinny jeans but u end up writing this emotional roller coaster instead and u cry
> 
> (yes. title by Mayday Parade's song 'Terrible Things'. now u kno what to expect)

His fingers were flying, flying, flying over the keys.

He could feel the audience’s burning gazes on his swaying back, some hungry to see him mess up somewhere, _anywhere_ , while others wanted to keep an eye on his technics.

Trying to keep himself up straight and to not throw up right then and there on his suit, his aching fingers continued to fly over the black and white tiles.

He could barely see anymore, his sight anything but focused and sharp, and wavering and blurry instead.  
Still, his fingers continued to move on their own accord, the pattern of it all engraved into his very being.

Feeling strangely naked without his hair framing and hiding his face, he was aware of the stinging eyes roaming over his whole body, his soul, himself.

His long hair mockingly tickled his neck as he moved.

Distantly he felt cold sweat dripping down his face and his eyes flickered to the side, towards the den of wolves.

He knew his mother sat in the front row, her gaze sharper than anyone else’s, and he was sure Pidge sat somewhere further up, watching him anxiously and on the edge of her seat.

His fingers were slipping along with his mind.

There was his heart banging frantically against his chest, the sound of it and his choked breathing filling his ears and his head, drowning out the overwhelming silence of the crowd and his own play.

The piano completely went under beneath it all, and the pressure on his eardrums suddenly transformed into a shrill ringing.

It set him off and his index finger slipped just a tad too far, missed, and then the sound was back.  
His misstep boomed like an alarm through his brain and he hurried to right himself, but the wolves heard it; of course they did, of course nothing escaped their gawking senses, and the gasps and surprised murmurs were now clashing together above his head like the suffocating waves of the sea.

He locked his jaw and it ached, his back stiffly hunched up and his body felt oh so cramped, to the point his hands could barely move, but he bit through.

Pidge’s wide, amber eyes appeared in front of his mind, together with his mother’s disappointed expression, and suddenly there was a rope of destroyed expectations around his neck, constricting his airways.

He tried to get back on track, to keep it up, but he just felt so cold and he absently noted that he was shivering, and was that sweat or tears dropping onto the keys and his sleeves? He couldn’t tell, couldn’t tell anymore, anything, it was too much, his fingers kept slipping now and the crowd got louder, more disapproving, more disappointed, like his _mother_ , oh _dear lord_ his _mother_ —

Keith blinked at the sudden cold meeting his hands.

His eyes flickered around the empty room; looked at the empty desks, the chalkboard with a list of songs and doodles on it, the open windows making his sheets flutter.

With his other hand he hurriedly reached for them before the wind did and held them, and then proceeded to look down.

The hand that shook him out of it was pressing down on the familiar keys, and the also familiar sensation of silence continued to meet his ears.

He recoiled as if the innocent tiles personally offended him, putting the sheets next to him on the seat before cradling his hands against his chest.

Keith realized that they were trembling, just like his whole body, and jerkily shook his head.

His ponytail mockingly tickled his neck.

With a deep but shaky breath, he reached back into his hair and roughly ripped the hair tie out of his dark locks.

They instantly framed his too warm cheeks, embracing them like old friends, and he closed his eyes.  
He tried to calm down his erratic breathing, tried to overcome the dizzy feeling clouding his mind, taking off his glasses and rubbing his twitching fingers over his face.

Looking for distraction, he then grabbed the sheets again and the pencil he apparently put onto the black, smooth surface of the piano.

Now staring down at the slightly fuzzy notes he wrote down before, his eyes flew over them a few times, playing the arrangement out in his head.

Keith frowned.

One, long line cut through all the others and he crumpled the paper.

It joined the others on the ground around him.

Then there was the sudden sound of shattering glass and before he knew it, nothing.

* * *

He woke to a blinding, stabbing pain in his head and a loud, annoying voice in his ears.

Small, slightly wet hands were awkwardly slapping his cheeks.

“—eith, Keith, c’mon man, get a grip! Get your lazy ass back up. Now. Hey, uhm, I’m sorry? Keith—“

He groaned and sluggishly blinked his eyes open; immediately squinting at the bright lights violating his head.

A familiar face popped up and thankfully blocked out the lights.  
There was a low whistle.

“Finally! But damn, that looks nasty. It’s all blue and purplish already. Wow.”

“W… What?” He croaked out.

His vision sharpened as well as it could, and he finally could make out Pidge’s smug features.

“Hit a homerun again.”

The words took a few seconds to register within his foggy brain, but when it clicked he groaned again and closed his eyes.

“Please, just quit already.”

Pidge laughed, and was that relief he could make out?

“Nah. They need me. But glad to hear you’re alright. Thought I knocked you out for good for a sec.”

Keith huffed.  
“Define ‘alright’,” he muttered and slowly tried to sit up.

The room suddenly went spinning, and thankfully Pidge reached out in time to grip his shoulder and back.  
“Easy there,” she coaxed, sounding almost guilty.

For a while, he just breathed.  
Pidge eventually helped him up, and when he was settled and felt fine enough, he just shot her a look.

He could see her pulling her shoulders up, but instead of saying something she just reached for his glasses and put them on his nose; careful to not stab his eyes out.

“You’re lucky you put them away before you got hit,” she grinned broadly and Keith just smiled and shook his head.  
Then he winced, reaching up and touching his left temple.  
It felt warm and slightly swollen. His fingers barely brushed against the skin, and he already had to pull back from the throbbing pain coursing through his head.

Finally, he could be sure that Pidge definitely didn’t look as smug anymore.  
“Hey, I’m sorry,” she mumbled and glanced away.

“As long as you didn’t do it on purpose, it’s fine, don’t worry,” he replied hesitantly.

His friend’s grin was back on already.  
“To be honest, at first I was scared it was somebody important’s room, y’know? I was really worried, like, what if it was the student council or something? They’re on the same floor. But then I found you and was like, ‘oh, nah, I’m good, it’s just Keith’. I was really relieved.”

“But you just broke this window last month, don’t you remember which one it was?”

“Oh. Nope. I forgot.”

“… Just ease down a bit for once on your swings, will you?”

Suddenly, she pouted and crossed her arms.  
“Are you kidding? This is my last chance to give it all I’ve got! You know we’re graduating soon, right?”

Keith frowned and turned his head, ignoring the throbbing as good as he could.  
“Sure I do. Let’s just clean this mess up already.”

He slowly got up to his feet; Pidge waited until he stood kind of steady, before heading over to a closet and looking for a broom.

Keith looked at the shards littering the floor, continuing to frown.  
“Wait, that means I’ll have to apologize again? And write that stupid damage report, too…”

He knelt down, observing the glass for a while, and then he reached out; intending to pick up an interesting looking piece.

But then Pidge was at his side, broom in one hand, his still outstretched wrist in her other.  
“Hey, hey, how about you don’t?”

“What?”

“That’s dangerous! What if you cut your fingers?”  
Now it was her who frowned.

Keith cocked his head; some strands of hair fell into his face, and his eyebrows almost shot off his forehead in confusion.

“What if I did?”

He saw Pidge’s eyes widen in what almost seemed like anger, but the sound of gentle laughter interrupted them.  
Both of them turned their heads towards the now broken window.

Hunk stood leaning against the safe parts of it, smiling at them.

“You’re _so_ like a married couple, it’s almost unbelievable!”

Keith felt the heat spread into his cheeks and tore his hand out of Pidge’s grasp, holding it against his chest.

He noted that Pidge took a step back and threw her arms into the air.

“We’re not!” They both yelled simultaneously.

Hunk was still smiling as he held up his hands in a defensive gesture.  
“Sure, sure,” he hummed.

“Aren’t you in the middle of soccer practice or something?” Pidge heatedly muttered, glancing at his uniform.

“Aren’t _you_ in the middle of baseball practice? At least I thought you were, before you decided to ruin my life once again,” Keith threw in playfully edgy, and Pidge took a deep breath, clasping her hands together.

“ _Boi._ Now listen up here—“

With another laugh, Hunk disappeared and left them to banter.

* * *

“I can’t believe that jerk told us off for an hour about some stupid broken glass,” Pidge hissed as they made their way out.

“I can’t believe you couldn’t keep your big mouth shut for one hour for once. Like, really? We probably could’ve made it out sooner if you just would have. I don’t know. Kept quiet, y’know?” Keith drawled, crossing his arms pointedly.

“Now, now. Just be glad it was only an hour,” Hunk scolded softly. His eyes were sparkling with laughter.

“Well, the school shouldn’t be standing in the ball’s path! So what happened is not my fault!”

“That’s a stupid argument which probably also was the one that set the principle off in the first place, and you know it!”

“I took the speed and weighth of the ball, the usual flow and intensity of the air, and the force, angles and accuracy of my swings into consideration and calculated the courses the ball could take, and sometimes it’s unavoidable to hit the school wherever, I’m telling you! God, I need a fucking drink, like, now—“

“I’m hungry, let’s eat! Convenience store, anyone?” Hunk boomed loudly, throwing an arm each around their shoulders and pulling them along.

“Why did _I_ have to get yelled at, too, though? I didn’t even _do_ anything—“

“You were there. Probably the fact that it was _you_ was enough. Oh, hey, I need to stock up on ice cream, like, now— _Look_ , they’re on sale—“

“Talk about collateral damage, though! You got yelled at, _and_ have to write _two_ apology letters?”

“Oh, don’t worry. I mean, I don’t get why _I_ have to apologize to  _her_ , too, but that’ll be the easy one. I’ve been babysitting her since I can remember, so, it’s, like, almost second-nature to me now.”

_“You haven’t, it was the opposite, you ungrateful—“_

Hunk hummed and put one finger to his chin in thought.  
Then he started counting off at his hand.

“Busting a suspension bridge during a field trip… Dumping me off a 10-meter-diving board…”  
He laughed.  
“That was in third grade, right? Boy, what an experience that one was!”

Keith couldn’t help but smile.  
Yeah, he remembered it all.  
He turned his head to look up at the orange tinted sky.

“It sure was. Even though I’m an only child, it feels like having a high-maintenance big sister,” he admitted sincerely, glancing over at said friend.

“Oh my _God_. Please don’t,” she muttered, shaking Hunk’s arm off and walking faster.  
Keith noticed the blush coloring her cheeks and huffed out a laugh.

He shrugged his friend off too as he smiled, and together they just walked in silence for a while.

After a while, Hunk’s phone went off.  
He curiously pulled it out of the pocket of his shorts, and after his eyes moved over the screen, his whole face lit up.

“It’s Shay. Is it okay if I leave?” He asked, looking up with a soft expression, and Pidge and Keith exchanged a look.

Eventually, the latter shrugged.  
“Sure, whatever man,” he answered.

“Alright, see you guys around! Later!”

With that, he was off; of course not before ruffling his shorter friends’ hair.  
Then he disappeared into the direction they came from with wide strides and a jump to his steps.

The two shorter friends looked at each other once more, before shrugging again and continuing their walk home.

“Hunk’s a good guy,” Pidge spoke up after some time.  
It was quiet, but honest, so Keith stuffed away his biting reply.

“He sure is,” he agreed after thinking about what to say.

“What about you?”  
She was still unusually quiet.  
Her voice was devoid of the usual snide and bitterness, and she was looking at her feet.

“What about me?”  
He frowned.  
A slight throbbing was back in his head, making it hard to think.

“Are you, like, in love? Crushing on someone?”

They entered their neighborhood and he slowed his steps some, to save some time.

She immediately adjusted, although probably unconsciously, and he smiled before remembering her question.

“A-Ah, uhm, no. I don’t think so,” he mumbled. “You?”

Pidge gave him a look.  
Shook her head.

“It’s just,” she continued and frowned, “Shay said something to me the other day. We were talking— well, _she_ was talking, I mostly listened. About Hunk, y’know?”

She turned away from him, biting her lip.  
“That, like, when you’re in love with somebody…”

Keith tried to read her face, and was surprised to find her wearing a soft smile.

“… everything turns really, really colorful.”

He huffed out a laugh.  
Realizing that it probably sounded bitter at her surprised look, he quickly shook his head, successfully trying to suppress a wince.

Instead, he looked at the sky again, and he was sure it wouldn’t be long until it went completely dark.  
He couldn’t help but wonder how it’d look like, if what Shay said was true; if everything would be even brighter.

But, well.  
He probably wouldn’t live to find out.

It’s not like there’d be anyone ever falling in love with him.

“What the _fuck?_ Just _stop_ selling yourself short for once! I _can’t_ believe this—“

He realized too late that he apparently spoke his last thought out loud.

Now Pidge stood in front of him, cursing and glaring up at him.

“Stop always going down that dark road! Like, dude. I can see it in your eyes, they look dark right now too—“

“They look dark naturally, that’s not—“

_“Anyways—“_

She continued to curse at him, and he let her.

They still had a while to go.

* * *

“When’s your dad coming home?”

“In a month, maybe two. Dunno. Don’t really care.”

“Oh, I see… It sucks that he’s always gone,” Pidge sighs and frowns.

Keith shrugged.  
“I’m used to living on my own now. Besides, your family always checks in, so I’ll be fine.”

They came to a stop.

“Of course they do,” she huffed and rolled her eyes.  
Keith smiled at her.

“See you tomorrow?”

“Sure,” Pidge replied and waved sloppily, before turning around and walking up to her house.

She could hear his footsteps disappearing steadily and took a deep breath.  
Going for the doorknob, her hand halted in midair.

Frowning, she reached into the pockets of her pants and pulled out her vibrating phone, immediately answering the call after reading the ID.

“Hey! I’m sorry, I completely forgot to ask him.”

She smiled at the delighted laugh.

“Sure, I’ll ask him tomorrow.”

Pidge listened again, shuffling her feet around.  
“Yeah, sure, no worries,” she eventually replied, blinking at her shoes.

She could feel her expression soften at the worry reaching through the speaker.  
“If I ask him to… For sure. Really, don’t worry. I got this!”

“Mhm. See ya tomorrow, then,” she continued to smile as she hung up.

After hanging up, she stared at her phone.

Was this really the right thing to do?

Pidge shook her head, stuffing her phone back into her pocket.  
Then she finally turned the doorknob and stepped inside.

“I’m home!”

* * *

Keith found his home as quiet as he left it this morning.

He pushed off his shoes and let his bag fall down next to the pair, tapping through the hallway, past the living room, the kitchen, the bathroom, his own room.

Instead he went to the door at the end of it.  
For a second he just looked at it, before he knocked gently and then moved inside; knowing there wouldn’t be an answer, anyway.

Ignoring the mess – notebooks scattered across the floor, the bed’s blanket half hanging off the mattress, his grandmother’s vase thrown over –, he made his way towards the nightstand.

There he let himself drop down onto his knees.

(Also ignoring the pain that shot through his head at the movement.)

He closed his eyes and rested his hands in his lap as he bowed his head with a smile.

“I’m home, Mom,” he whispered gently.

His mother’s gentle expression unnervingly stared down at him, frozen in time and a white picture frame.

Keith knelt there for just a little while longer, before deciding to get up and carefully exit the room again, leaning his back against the door as soon as he was outside.  
Taking deep breaths, he decided to go look for a Tylenol and his old set of makeup.

God knows it’d be easier to cover his bruise up than to explain how it happened.

* * *

The teacher was talking, talking, talking, somehow trying to get to a close of the lesson, but he felt so tired he could barely keep his eyes open.

Resting his elbow on the table’s surface and his chin within his hand, he let his mind wander.  
Immediately, Pidge’s words echoed through his head.

_“Everything turns really, really colorful.”_

He quietly let out a sigh, letting his eyes wander.  
Suddenly frowning, he bit his lip.

Well, he at least could be sure that, if what she and Shay said was true – he wasn’t in love.

Keith knew that the sky was blue, the sun was shining and lighting up the room.

But right now, it didn’t look right.  
It was gray, and off, and _wrong_.  
Monotone.

Like his music scores;

Like his piano keys.

His eyes widened.

His  _piano keys..._

Reaching up to grip his head at both sides, he stared down at the table.  
His glasses were slowly slipping down on his nose, and suddenly it was the mentioned black and white tiles beneath him and within his line of sight.

Keith could hear people murmur disapprovingly, getting louder as the seconds passed.  
His vision was blurry, his eyes stung as the tears fell, and he wished he could finish the piece.

He wished to just finish it for the sake of his mother, if nothing else, and for the sake of his precious friend.  
Pidge loved to listen to him play.  
She probably was disappointed, too.

He used a trembling hand to push through beneath his glasses, to rub his eyes over and over again, to make the tears and the disappointment stop.

Keith felt his thin fingers dig into his eyes, his small hand brushing his cheek, and he remembered.

Hiccups racked his tiny frame, and there was a loud gasp somewhere in the audience.

_… Right._

He tried to curl in on himself on his seat that suddenly seemed too small for him, but usually had enough space for his mother and their cat to all sit next to him during rehearsal.

_The autumn I was eleven…_

_I…_

There was a familiar voice talking to him, warm and gentle.

The instrument in front of him was blurry.

_“Hey, Keith. Is it okay if I touch your hand? You’re putting a rough number on your head there, buddy.”_

He gasped and reached out.

Not sure towards what, or who, but somewhere in his mind he knew it was alright to trust that voice.

A warm hand almost completely covered his own.  
Another one took his other hand, carefully leading it down, resting against a cool surface.  
It wasn’t completely smooth; slightly rough at some places, even poking and stinging his skin a little.  
The thumbs that weren’t his were slowly rubbing circles on the back of his hands.

They were calming and grounding, and when he blinked he was suddenly staring at two pairs of hands on a table.  
The pressure on his ears was disappearing as he tried to even his breathing out, but it left him lightheaded in his seat nonetheless.

Opposite of him, movement caught his eyes, and he slowly tried to get his stiff neck to move.  
It ached, but he eventually managed to look up.

Hunk had turned the seat in front of his table around, so he was facing Keith as he sat there.  
He had bent his head to try and catch his friend’s eyes.  
Now that Keith looked at him, he blinked in surprise before smiling gently.

“Hey there,” he spoke soothingly.

His chest was still jerking slightly, but he was able to whisper a breathy “Hey” back.

Hunk seemed relieved at that.  
He continued massaging his hands.

“Class is over,” he started quietly, giving Keith time to recover.  
“Almost everyone left by the time I gathered all my stuff. I only then realized that you didn’t get up yet.”  
He gave him an apologizing frown.  
“I’m sorry. I should’ve noticed sooner that you weren’t alright.”

Keith shook his head, letting one last shuddering breath escape his lips.  
“Not your fault,” he whispered and closed his eyes.

Hunk hummed in thought, scooting closer with his chair.

Keith let himself slump against his friend.  
“What about class?” He mumbled tiredly.

One of Hunk’s hands slipped around his back and held his shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly.  
“Don’t worry. We’re excused.”

Keith flinched. Hunk needed the lessons…  
“I’m… sorry.”

“Don’t be.”  
He could feel his friend hesitating.  
“Do you… want to talk?”

The shorter boy shook his head and Hunk didn’t pressure him.

“Maybe you should go home for today,” he then tried cautiously.

Again, he shook his head.  
“Can I go to the music room?” He asked quietly.

He could almost hear Hunk’s smile.  
“Sure. Mind if I join?”

Keith stiffened.  
Well. Kinda.  
“No.”

He blinked and slowly moved off his friend.

Hunk’s hands hovered, not sure where to go, or what to hold.

But as he stood on wobbly legs, he felt mostly fine.  
Exhausted, with a scratchy throat and an oncoming headache combined with feeling uneasy, but otherwise fine.  
He used the hem of his shirt to try and clean his glasses.

“Hunk?”  
His voice sounded thin and frail in his own ears and he gulped.

“Yeah, buddy?”

“Please don’t tell Pidge.”

He didn’t have to look up to see him hesitating.

“I don’t… I don’t know. This time was pretty bad, Keith…”

“Please, Hunk?”  
Keith could feel the tears prick at his eyes again, and he angrily rubbed at them again before putting his glasses back on.  
Slowly, he looked up to meet his friend’s calculating gaze.

Hunk then avoided his eyes.

Instead, he took one of Keith’s hands into his and slowly led him out of the classroom.  
Keith instantly relaxed at the touch and the realization that the hallways were empty.

But he knew that this was the other’s way of saying that he wouldn’t promise something he wasn’t sure he could keep, and he appreciated it.

Keith bit down on his lip.

“Hunk?”

“Yeah?”  
He didn’t sound annoyed.  
Only nothing but patient and warm, and he couldn’t help but smile.  
His cheeks felt strained.

Taking a deep, wavering breath,

“I’m sorry I… can’t, _can’t_ play for you and Pidge anymore.”

Hunk was quiet after that.

“Don’t apologize, please,” he eventually requested quietly.

Keith wouldn’t agree on or promise something he couldn’t keep, either, though.

* * *

They didn’t go to the music room.

Keith wanted to turn around halfway there, and they both just sneaked into an empty classroom.  
There he brought out his empty scores, and with an accepting nod from Hunk, he put in his earbuds and started to fill the lines with notes.

Hunk sat a few tables over, either just watching him or doing stuff on his phone.

A while ago he excused himself, though, leaving his phone with Keith and saying he’d go to the restroom and would be right back.

Somebody then plucked one of his earbuds out and he frowned.  
When he looked up, he could feel his expression fall.

Pidge pulled up a chair, not meeting his eyes at first.

“Alone in a classroom during classes…” She drawled, plopping down and sticking the earbud into her own ear.  
Finally, she looked up at him.

Keith could feel the blood drain from his face at how serious her eyes looked.

“What happened?” Pidge asked carefully.

He couldn’t help but huff.  
“Hunk probably told you all about it already,” he muttered, looking down at the crumpled piece of paper.

“Surprisingly, he didn’t,” Pidge argued, eyebrows shooting up. “All the more reason to be suspicious, to be honest. Besides, if how the big guy acted wasn’t enough, then you just confirmed that _something_ happened. Now, spill.”

Keith felt a wave of surprise wash over him.  
Not that Hunk was bad at keeping secrets; it was just unusual for him to not go straight to their shortest friend with… stuff like that.

“It’s no big deal, so I’d rather not,” he mumbled and Pidge clicked her tongue.

“Fine,” she gave in, and now he could feel his own eyebrows flying too.

His friend threw her hands up.  
“Don’t look at me like that! I know you long enough by now to know that pressure won’t do shit with you. I know you’ll talk when you need to. Well. Mostly.”  
She gave him a look, and he gave a sharp nod.

Pidge didn’t seem too satisfied, but she tried to shrug nonchalantly.  
“Good. So, I actually wanted to ask you something. Since tomorrow is Saturday you’re free, right?”

“Why can’t I have plans just because it’s Saturday?” He asked indignantly.

She gave him a deadpanned look.  
“Oh, so you _have_ plans?”

A heavy silence followed.

Keith could feel his face heat up, and Pidge’s lips curled into a shit eating grin.

“So,” she drawled and he let out a _tsk.  
_ “There’s somebody in my class who wanted to meet Hunk.”

He almost choked on his spit.  
“He has a _girlfriend_! I swear to _God_ , Pidge, _you little shit_ —“

“We all wanted to meet tomorrow,” she continued, swinging her legs back and forth, hitting his shins every time she did so.  
“And you’re coming, too.”

“What? Why would I?”

She continued to kick her feet against his legs, and he pulled them back to escape her with a frown.

“Well, if it’s just us, it’s gonna be awkward for me. You know it’s gonna get romantic as fuck.”  
She rolled her eyes, as if that was obvious.  
“But two on two would be perfect. Besides…”

Suddenly, she reached out.

Keith followed her hand with his eyes, as she pressed something on his phone.

The music stopped.

A small smile graced her lips as she adjusted her glasses, making her look younger than usual all of a sudden.  
“I heard that person plays classical music.”

Keith felt his whole body tense up.

Pidge narrowed her eyes, but continued.  
“I just thought, since you play piano, you’d have something to talk about. Would keep the conversation going, y’know?”

He shook his head before she even finished.

“But I…”

He hesitated.

Then, he reached out to press ‘play’ again.

“I quit. I haven’t played in years,” he whispered, blinking at the notes covering the papers in front of him.

Pidge’s eyes appeared to see straight into his soul.  
She pursed her lips and turned her head, once again stopping the music.

“Liar. You were in the music room yesterday.”

Keith could feel his temper flare within the depths of his stomach, like a desperate fire wanting to expand.

“That was for work!” He snapped and Pidge pulled back from where she bent over the table before with a frown, running a hand through her short hair.

“Work?” She repeated suspiciously.

His fingers curled tighter around his pencil.

“I’m transcribing the new songs by ear,” he muttered heatedly.  
“For karaoke and stuff.”

Pidge tsk-ed.

“If you can do that in a classroom, you don’t have to be in the music room in front of a piano,” she argued.

“I was checking the sound!” Keith replied desperately, pencil falling onto the desk as he threw his hands up, breathing labored.

They just stared at each other for a while.

Pidge was the first to give in, scooting back a bit and turning her head to look at his work so far.  
“There are enough other part-time jobs and you know it,” she spoke up quietly, eyes sliding over the papers with a scowl.  
“To me, it just looks like you’re desperately clinging to it now.”

She took out the earbud and stood up.  
Making her way around his table to put it back where she took it from, she then pressed ‘stop’.

“You were really cool when you still played the piano, y’know,” she mumbled sheepishly before suddenly the music blasted through the speakers again, but this time way too loud.

He flinched, ripping out his headphones, but by the time he calmed down Pidge was gone.

Keith closed his eyes, taking off his glasses and burying his face within the palms of his hands.

The music continued to fill his ears.

* * *

It was his mother’s dream…

To raise him

To become a world-class pianist.

His mother ran a music school,

And he took lessons from her

Day after day

For hours on end.

  
Keith blinked, and suddenly he was watching his younger self sit on a seat way too big for his small frame, reaching out to play something too long for his short arms.

The sharp, cracked voice of his mother filled his ears, and her presence lingered like a haunting ghost behind his back.  
He didn’t dare to turn around; instead, he sat down too, watching battered and bruised limbs fly over the precious instrument.

Keith smiled bitterly.

He still felt the stinging, sometimes almost unbearable pain just from remembering.

Yeah.  
She wouldn’t let him off even if he cried and pleaded for her to stop, begging for just a break.

_“You’re going to make it big in Europe. You will be going in my place."_

He blinked when the boy next to him stopped moving, his fingers hovering just above the keys.  
Keith watched a wobbling smile form on chapped lips before he turned around; his long, dark hair sticking to his face because of the sweat running down his skin, and he could feel his current body twisting to see, too.

His breath hitched in his throat.

Her familiar, dark fringe was still covering almost half of her pale face.  
She was tapping her walking stick in an impatient manner against the floor, her other hand clutching a wheel of her wheelchair she sat in.  
The nasal cannula wound like a snake around her face, disappearing behind her over the chair.

_“Sure, eomma*.“_

Keith watched his younger self’s shoulders tremble as he spoke with a thin, high pitched voice.

_“If it… Makes you h-happy…”_

He closed his eyes and turned away, feeling tempted to just press his hands over his ears.

_“If it h-helps… you get well…”_

The sound of something dripping onto the floor boomed through his head louder than anything, and he whimpered.

_“Then I’ll— I’ll k-keep at it.”_

He tried.

Oh, did he try.

But just when he finally had a European competition in his sights, some years ago…

His mother passed away.

“Keith?”

He flinched almost violently, his chair just barely avoiding to topple backwards.

“Hey, hey, buddy, it’s just me. I’m sorry for scaring you.”

His head snapped up to see a concerned Hunk standing there uncertainly.

“Again?” He asked worriedly and Keith locked his jaw, standing up and gathering his things in his arms, without answering.

That set his friend into motion.

He reached out, only lowering his hand when Keith backed away, shaking his head and continuing in silence to stuff his tools into his school bag.

“Okay, I see. I’ll leave it for now, but maybe- please sit down? You’re really pale. You don’t look too good right now, Keith. Please, just take a seat for five, ten minutes, we don’t even have to talk…”

No, but he’d stare at Keith with those sympathetic eyes, which was almost worse than talking.

“I’m going home for today,” he stated quietly, not daring to raise his voice any louder, shouldering his bag and already turning away on unsteady feet.

“I’m—“

“No.”  
He cut Hunk off before he could ask to come along.

Before he went out the door, though, he considered not being a complete jerk; although, Keith didn’t dare turn around.  
He knew that Hunk would look hurt and sad, and he’d have to keep himself from giving in.

“B-But thanks. I’ll… text you when I’m home. See you.”

And with that, he left his friend behind without waiting for a response.

* * *

Keith curled in on himself even tighter, tucking the comforting blanket around his whole body; only his nose and face above it peeked over the seams.

“I hate the piano,” he whispered into the unresponsive darkness, clutching his knees against his chest.

The gloves around his hands screamed _liar._

“Pidge was right…”

He could feel strands of hair slowly falling into his face, caressing his cheeks, his nose, his lips; feeling heavy and weird, but sadly not unfamiliar.

Ah. He should’ve taken a shower before he went to bed.  
Whelp. Too late now.

He squinted his eyes closed, trying to ignore the thoughts about how bad his hair will look tomorrow.

“But if I’m... really clinging onto it…”

They started burning and he turned around.  
Blindly, he sneaked a hand out from beneath the blanket, feeling for a familiar frame on his nightstand.

“… it’s just b-because I h-have... n-nothing else left,” he whimpered.

He found it and held it close to his chest.  
Without looking, he knew there would be his mother carrying him on her arms, lovingly smiling down at his chubby, glowing face.

Yeah.

Take away the piano, and he’d be empty.

It was the only thing left of his mother.

The only thing his mother left him.

“Nothing left but an ugly, ugly resonance,” he breathed quietly.

Keith pulled his blanket over his head, letting it stand between himself and the world outside just this one more time, thinking and wishing for the umpteenth it'd be the last.

* * *

Pidge banged her head back against the window, not even wincing at the thumping sound.

She shoved the last bite of her donut between her lips.  
Proceeding to pulling off her glasses and carelessly letting them clatter onto her bedside table, she just let herself flop down on her bed; her back hitting the mattress with a soft bounce.

Staring up at the window, she slowly chewed and frowned.

Her neighbor’s house wasn’t lit up anywhere.

After swallowing the piece of fried bread, she turned onto her side.  
Pulling the long sleeves of her hoodie over her wrists, she sighed and put one wrapped hand over her eyes.

“Can’t hear it today, either,” she whispered sadly and closed her eyes.

The ticking of the alarm clock was the only sound filling the deafening silence she was slowly becoming used to.

* * *

Keith frowned and checked his phone again.

Yup.

Definitely late.

Tapping his foot impatiently he let his gaze wander for the third time, just in case he hadn’t seen them.

But, nope. Nothing.

He cursed under his breath.  
“They were the ones to invite me. I got my ass up to take a shower and still ended up here way too early, and now _they_ are _late_ , I’m going to fu— Huh?”

He cut himself off, squinting at the tree next to him, by the gates of the park entrance.

Walking over to confirm that he wasn’t seeing things, or mixing things up just because he thought he’d leave his glasses at home for once, he could see that, nope, he wasn’t.

A pair of navy blue converse were hanging from a branch, tied together by their white shoelaces.

He poked at the branch, and something else fell down.  
Keith almost jumped out of his skin, but after trying to calm his racing heart he squinted at the fallen object too, kneeling down to pick it up.

He yelped as he recognized it as something looking like a mix of a field jacket and a trench coat, held in earthy colors.

Suddenly, another sound cut through the air and distracted him from almost dropping the pieces of clothing.

He realized it instantly for what it was.

“A… melodica?” He mumbled and turned his head.

Yes. He was sure of it.  
It was coming from further into the park, clear and loud.

He didn’t know what it was that made him act, but his arms were reaching for the shoelaces, lifting them off the tree, too.

With a stranger’s converses in one hand and their jacket over his other arm, he followed the music.  
It was luring him closer, like a magic spell.

(He had to admit that it sounded pretty good.)

The path got smaller for a bit before widening into the open, hanging branches and leaves making it look like another gate made out of nature itself.

Keith ducked through beneath it, and was hit by a soft but intense breeze blowing his hair out of his face as soon as he stepped into the open.

His feet kept moving on their own through an alley marked by blooming trees.  
A flock of birds rushed over his head, chirping and cooing, towards the sound.

As he kept getting closer, he realized that in front of him was the playground.

_“Y’know, what Shay said to me… Her exact words were a bit different.”_

_Pidge spoke up after a long silence.  
Since she walked in front of him, he couldn’t see her face._

_“She said…”_

His eyes widened and everything around him seemed to slow down.

_“’The moment I met him, my life changed.’”_

Keith almost rushed to press his back against a tree.  
The bark felt weird through the fabric of his flannel shirt jacket, cold and soft but scratchy, and he had to take a deep breath before he finally gathered the courage to peek around the tree trunk.

_“’Everything I saw; everything I heard…’”_

A small group of children was standing at the base of a slide, dancing and laughing.

On top of it…

Keith squinted.

And before he knew it, his feet stepped out of cover and closer to the hypnotizing sound.

It didn’t take too long for him to reach his destination, and he stopped a few steps away from the children.  
They sent some curious looks his way, but soon seemed to forget he even was there; completely focused on the source of sound.

He finally looked up and suddenly, it was hard to turn away.

There was a guy standing on top of the slide, playing a sky blue melodica.  
His chestnut hair looked messy and stood up into all directions, as he awkwardly danced around on the small platform on top, with his eyes held close.  
He was turning and swaying, almost stumbling off the edges a few times, but always regaining his footing.

Keith stared at his bare, brown arms glistening in the sun from sweat, muscles playing beneath soft looking skin as he played the instrument.

He gulped.

Because most important of all—

_“’All the scenery around me started to take on color.’”_

The guy was so fucking _bright._

 _“’The whole world just… began to_ sparkle _.’”_

Keith didn’t even hear that the piece ended.

But suddenly, the boy who didn’t seem any older than himself, lowered the key harmonica and turned around on naked, steady feet.

At first, he seemed to look down at his younger audience, before he apparently caught sight of Keith standing a bit offside, and Keith saw his shoulders hitch.

Glowing light blue eyes widened in shock and the guy whirled back around, raising one arm to his face.

It was only then that Keith realized the other was crying.

_What…_

The musician coughed weakly; once, twice, before turning around again and wiping at his eyes with a small smile.

“I blew on it too hard, hah,” he huffed out weakly.  
Then he halted.  
“Wait, that sounds wrong. Y’all are too young to hear this!” He yelped and the children all giggled in response.

A young girl suddenly raised her hand.  
“U-Uhm…” She stuttered, before speaking up louder. “N-No pigeons came, Mister!”

The boy on the slide bent over the side rails, frowning down at her.  
“Huh, really? That’s weird.”

Her friend chimed in, too; gesturing animatedly.  
“It’s gotta be a bugle! A bugle, or it won’t work!”

Another girl crossed her arms as she turned towards the boy.  
“You mean a trumpet, dummy!”

“B-But, it’s a melodica…” The first girl hesitantly threw in, cocking her head and looking back up at the older boy.

Said guy sat down, letting his legs dangle down against the ladder as he spoke with a soft smile.  
“Borders, race, ecology… none of them mean anything in music.”

His voice was calm and his expression warm as his smile evolved into a cheeky grin.  
“Let’s all just try again together!”

The children gasped in wonder.  
They all shared a look; then they cheered, pulling their own instruments out of their bags and backpacks.  
Keith recognized a flute, a keytar and a rattle.

“Let’s do this!” The boy roared and the girls laughed excitedly.

The melodica guy pulled his feet up to crouch on them, and nodded encouragingly.  
For a second, his eyes flickered to Keith, who instinctively took a step back.  
The other cocked his head at that, and he felt his cheeks heating up.  
Slowly raising a hand to wave hesitantly, he then hurried to turn his head and stuff his hands into the pockets of his skinny jeans.

Gentle laughter filled the air, and his head snapped up.  
The musician waved back, way more enthusiastically than Keith, and smiling widely.

Keith immediately bowed his head again.

He thought he heard the other laugh again, but then the sound of shrill, not all that matching instruments filled the air.  
The girl playing the flute blew too hard, while the other girl with the rattle had no sense of rhythm, and the boy with the keytar used the wrong scale, making the usually happy melody sound off and depressing.

But then the melodica joined in and it didn’t sound as bad.

The children tried to climb the slide, too; the boy stood on the lowest, flat part of it, while one girl stood on the ladder.  
The remaining, shyer girl was waved up to stand with the melodica boy, who took her upon his shoulders.  
She squealed and almost dropped her rattle at first, before continuing with a smile.

They all played like that, and Keith was amazed.

He slowly pulled out his phone and took a few steps back and to the side; opening his camera.

Fluttering drowned out the music, and suddenly a swarm of birds was rushing over their heads.  
Reaching out and laughing they jumped and tried to catch one; Keith managed to snatch a perfect picture of the moment.

“The pigeons are here!” The girl on the steps screeched out the obvious.

Scattering at the shrill sound they escaped in every direction, and the girl whined in disappointment.

Her friends just giggled.

“W-Wait a second!”

Melodica boy suddenly put the girl on his shoulders down the slide, who crashed into the calves of the younger boy, taking him with her.  
They both cried out in surprise and pain, but he didn’t even turn to see.

Instead, he leaned over the rails, pointing and squinting down at Keith.

_“Are those my clothes?!”_

Keith didn’t even realize he still held them, but, oh, yeah, he _did_.

Instantly, he dropped them as if they burned him.

“T-They hung on a tree at the park’s entrance!”  
His voice sounded almost as shrill as the girl’s and he wanted nothing but to run away and hide.

The other jumped down, scrambling to pick up his stuff and clutching it to his chest, his instrument slung over his shoulder.

“What the _fuck—“_

“Oh my _God—“_  
They muttered at the same time.

Their wide eyes met.

“Please _don’t_ —“

“ _Stop_ —“

“I cannot _believe_ —“

“ _Why_ did you even—“

“Ah, Lance! There you are!”

They both whirled around on the spot to see Pidge and Hunk jogging up to them.  
It was Pidge who called out and now gave them a strange look.

She eyed the bundle Lance was holding, and then Keith’s flaring face, and just;  
“… I am not even going to ask, but I guess I’m glad you didn’t kill each other yet.”

Lance mumbled something under his breath as he awkwardly slipped into his converse, almost falling flat onto his face once during the process, and then tying his jacket around his hips.

Pidge cleared her throat and gave Keith a _look,_ but he roughly shrugged and frowned at her.  
She then turned to Hunk, apparently wanting to deal with him later.  
“Well, may I introduce you— so, Hunk, this is Lance McClain. Lance, that’s Hunk Garett. He might not look like he could ever give anyone any orders, but he's actually captain of the soccer team.”

Hunk just waved and smiled softly; with a grin, Lance was instantly in his face.

Pidge moved to stand next to Keith, and then added loudly:  
“And it’s not really important, but this right here is Friend A.”

“Oh!”

Keith was so busy with staring his shorter friend down into the ground and straight to hell where she belonged, he didn’t even notice Lance until he was so close their foreheads almost touched.

He finally noted that his eyes really were as light and bright as the sky on a warm, sunny day.

“It’s nice to officially meet you!”  
His smile was wide, but Keith could see it twitching at the corners of his lips.

“Let’s not talk to anyone about this,” he then hissed through his teeth, and Keith took a step backwards.

“S-Sure—“

“So polite,” Hunk sighed, and Lance was back at his side, throwing an arm around Hunk’s broad shoulders.

“Hah, of course I am! Or did you hear otherwise?”

“Of course not, of course not!”

They both laughed.

 _“Oh dear lord have mercy,”_ Pidge next to him grumbled.

“ _This_. Exactly _this_ , is your fault,” Keith stated bitterly.

She glanced up at him.  
“Why were you here first?”

“It was a _coincidence_!”

“Well, whatever. Don’t worry, you’re just the sidekick. Right, Friend A?”

“Please stop this.”

“Oh! I gotta go head over, I’m up soon!”

Lance’s voice interrupted them, hurrying back to the slide.

“Head over? Where?” Hunk asked curiously, and Pidge pointed at something over their shoulders.

“There!”

Oh.

She was pointing at the Town Hall.

If they moved through the park, it’d lead them directly to it.

“Yup. I’m performing there today.”

Lance jogged back with a blinding smile.  
Now there was a bright blue instrument case slung over his back.  
It was a bit bigger and wider than the melodica, so it had to be something else.

The case was littered with stickers and glued on shells and jewelry beads.

Huh. Well. It might be—

“I’m a violinist!”

That.

“That’s awesome!” Hunk offered happily, moving to put an arm around Lance this time, who accepted with a grin.

“I know, right?”  
He wiggled his eyebrows.

Pidge rolled her eyes and looked at Keith.

“C’mon, Friend A. Let’s go.”

Keith could feel his expression fall, and he hugged his arms close to his upper body.

The girl’s eyes narrowed.  
After a moment, realization flickered across her face, and with a glance towards Hunk and Lance she uncertainly looked back at him.

“I’m… gonna pass,” he muttered.

Pidge opened her mouth again.

But then there was a warm, slightly sweaty hand clasping and untangling his own right one, and his head snapped up.

Lance was standing in front of him, giving his fingers a gentle tug.

“No, no, no, you come with us, too!”

Bright blue eyes were glowing with excitement and glistening with something else.

Keith had no time to think about anything more, because suddenly Lance was moving and pulling him along behind him.

He took in his colorful surroundings as they made their way over to Hunk and Pidge, who were waiting for them at the path leading towards the hall.

Letting the wind toy with his hair and his clothes, he let himself be dragged along by a stranger.

Yet, he couldn’t help but smile.

(It wasn’t like he knew they’d be doomed from the start at that time.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *eomma, or sometimes umma, apparently means 'mom' in Korean, idk that's what google came up with  
> if you know it's wrong and want to tell me the real word, please do!
> 
> it's 12am and i have to get up for my shift in not even 5 hours ahahahah rip (pls kill me)
> 
> hmu on tumblr @ gayspaceguys to cry with me or yell at me about anything, whatever floats your boat
> 
> i don't have a beta, so if you can find any grammar errors or that stuff please let me know, too, thanks  
> also, if there's something i forgot to tag, please feel free to hit me 
> 
> (wake me up (wake me up inside) i can't wake up (save m-))


	2. Sounds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A special day and a weird statement during their next meeting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i started work a bit over a month ago and already had to call in sick today bc i'm so weak and exhausted smh
> 
> but i was motivated to write so have this shorter second chapter a bit early
> 
> thank you guys for all your support and lovely comments!!

“What time does the competition start?”

Pidge grabbed Lance’s wrist to drag him along when he stopped to wave the children goodbye.

“Uhm… The doors open at 3… and the thing starts half an hour later, I think?”

_“It’s 3:20 now!”_

“Oh crap! It’s just about to start!”  
Hunk threw in and Pidge shot him a piercing gaze over her shoulder.

“You don’t say!” She hissed.

“Don’t worry, don’t worry!” Lance chirped. “I’m fourth, anyway!”

“Still gonna be a close call,” Keith mumbled with a frown.  
Lance had let go of his hand by now, so he had them stuffed into his pockets.

But then Pidge stormed right through the entrance and into the inside.  
Immediately, she skidded to a stop, and the others behind her just barely avoided a crash.

“Whoops.”

People turned around, scowling and shaking their head at them with a sigh, before minding their own business again.

Some held programs and talked, others wore their own instrument cases on their backs, while there were some who disappeared into the auditorium.

“So number 11 was last year’s Honorable Mention, huh?”

“What about the audience award?”

“Huh. I wonder if she’ll be able to play well…”

“Zarkon’s leading the judging panel this year, then?”

“Good chance to catch his eye.”

“It’s like a different dimension in here! Everyone’s like a celebrity. Even I’m getting nervous!” Hunk’s voice boomed loudly through the entrance hall, making people send more annoyed looks towards them.

“You’re not even competing, what the hell—“

Lance chuckled.  
“Bye!” He said, and Keith’s head snapped up to face him.

“I’m going this way,” the other explained, pointing at a long hallway; many musicians were already filling it.

“Good luck!”

“Yeah, you can do it!”

Keith just nodded, averting his eyes right after.

“Sure, I’ll do my best!”  
His footsteps went under within the sea of people.

“Well then. Let’s look for the main hall.”

“Oh, there! I think I see the door!”

The words took too long to register within his busy brain, and once again he hurried to look up;

But Pidge and Hunk were nowhere in sight already.

Suddenly, the messy conversations were closing in on his ears.   
His shoulders stiffened, body completely freezing on the spot.

Was it always like this?

He couldn’t remember.

Maybe they saw him?

What if people recognized him?

What if they even came up to ask him questions, or just talk to him?

_Wide eyed he stared at the wide space, filled with instruments and other parents with their children.  
He clutched the seams of his suit with both of his fingers and they ached, a painful reminder._

_His mother’s walking stick poked his legs just a tad too harshly and he whirled around, almost tripping over his own two feet in the process._

_“This is your work place now, Keith.”_

_Adults turned to stare him down._  
Would he be better than their own child?  
How many dreams would he destroy tonight?

_He didn’t care as long as it wouldn’t be his mother’s._

A small hand grabbed his, roughly tugging him forward.

Keith stumbled.

Another pair of arms was winding around his body from behind him, catching him.  
The other hand still didn’t let go.

“Sorry,” Pidge’s voice cut through the wall of voices, leaning into his vision.  
She pursed her lips in thought.  
“Don’t space out here, Keith. C’mon, let’s go inside.”

For a second her eyes narrowed, before flying over his head, and the strong arms around him carefully pulled him straight up onto his feet before letting him go.

“There you go,” Hunk offered quietly, softly patting his shoulder.

“Thanks,” he mumbled with an embarrassed nod.  
Pulling his hand out of his friend’s grasp, he walked past them.

Pidge had already steered them into the right direction, so it was easy to find.

He made it in safely, taking a second to breathe it all in.

He was back.

There were the same seats clothed in red velvet;  
A lit up stage in front of him, with a plain white banner hanging just below the ceiling.

  
_Music Competition Committee Sponsor_

_Second Annual Town Music Competition_

_Violin – High School Division_

  
It still read the same thing as always, too.

“Woah. Been a while since I’ve last felt this atmosphere!”

Pidge strode in, pulling at his hand again.  
She dragged him over to a couple seats.

Keith’s eyes stayed fixed on the stage.

The dry air…

The smell of dust…

The fist he unconsciously clenched at his side loosened up again.

“Wait, isn’t that Kogane?”

He just had time to sit down in his seat before a stranger’s voice reached his ears.

“It is!”

“You mean… The pianist, Keith Kogane?”

“Ohh, he’s all grown up now…”

“You mean the youngest kid to ever win the International Piano Protégé Competition?”

“But I thought he was overseas…?”

“What’s he doing at the Violin Competition?”

A shoulder brushed against his and he flinched, scooting over.

Pidge had moved closer with worried, narrowed eyes.  
“Try to ignore them,” she mumbled.  
It sounded loud and clear to his ears, though.

“Yeah. Just let them talk! Soon they'll be focused on other things,” Hunk agreed calmly from his other side.

Keith took a deep breath.  
Easier said than done.

But he turned his attention towards Pidge, trying to tune out the sound around him.

“You kept this from me on purpose, didn’t you?”

At her confused expression, he clarified: “That we’d be going to hear him perform!”

Pidge’s face softened.  
“Oh. Yeah, well. If you knew, you wouldn’t have come. Would you?”

He scoffed and shuffled his feet around, trying to lean and inch back from the edge of his seat.

Turning away, his friend frowned.  
“So the piano only makes you feel lousy, then?”

Keith didn’t answer.

Thankfully, the lights dimmed just then, leaving only the stage in front of them enlightened.

_“We will now begin the preliminary round of the Town Music Competition, Violin Section for High-schoolers.”_

The first duo walked on stage, bowing dutifully during the friendly claps before taking their places.

A girl he’s never seen before sat down in front of the piano; a boy he never really talked to raised his violin.

Familiar sounds filled the space around them.  
It didn’t take five seconds for him to recognize the piece.

“Beethoven… Violin Sonata No. 9. _The Kreutzer_ ,” he mumbled under his breath, carefully ignoring Pidge’s blank glance sent his way.

It’s been a while since he’s seen a live performance.  
Goosebumps speckled his arms, and he hugged them close to his chest.

It was over before he realized it, really;

The pair already accepted their applause, leaving the stage with their heads held high and smiles pulling at their lips.

Well, what he heard was alright, he guessed.

Another couple he didn’t recognize appeared, playing similar to their predecessors.

Nothing spectacular.

They came and went, and suddenly it was the third duo entertaining them.

“It’s the same song over and over?” Pidge muttered in the middle of it, crossing her arms.

Keith frowned.  
“It’s the set piece. Don’t complain, you’re the one who dragged me here.”

She sighed.  
“I guess. But I’m a little surprised, to be honest. At how big this all turned out so far.”  
Pushing up her glasses, she mentioned around the hall.

“It's a newly established major national competition that’s starting to get some notice,” Keith explained thoughtfully, but never taking his eyes off the people on stage.  
“The sponsors are kinda quirky. Normally, the set piece for the preliminary round would be Bach or Paganini numbers, played solo; but in this contest, every number features an accompanist. That’s pretty rare.  
The winner gets the right to play on a Guarneri owned by the sponsors in a recital.”

He could almost see Pidge’s twitching eyebrows.

But he didn’t mind her.  
Instead, he frowned and leaned forward in his seat.

From where he sat he could see the violinist throw a worried glance over his shoulder at his partner.

_Ah, he’s off._

Pidge poked his ribs.

“Is it just me, or does he kinda suck right now?” She whispered, scooting over to talk into his ear.

When he didn’t answer her, she squinted and peered at his face.

_You got this._

He bent over just the slightest bit, his fingers clenching his knees and then tapping the melody away on the fabric of his skinny jeans.

Their set ended way too soon.  
Taking in their applause with unsure faces, they disappeared backstage.

If he’d turned around just once, he’d have noticed Pidge’s soft smile directed at him.

(And Hunk’s soft snores on his other side.)

* * *

 

“Hey, Hunk, get up! Lance’s next!”

Keith regretted it as soon as both of his friends erupted in loud cheers and clapping.

“His suit looks so cool!”

_“Show them who’s boss!”_

People turned to glare at them and Keith slapped a hand each onto their faces, smiling apologetic at them.

Even Lance on stage glanced into their direction, an amused smirk playing on his lips.

He wore a simple, light blue suit with white shoes and tie; his hair barely showed a difference.

Behind him followed a young woman in a simple outfit with her head held high, eyes scanning the room before sitting down at the piano, flexing her fingers one last time.

Lance didn’t seem too interested in what she was doing.  
He bent his head a little and with a soft smile, closed his eyes.  
Taking a deep breath, his lips formed words that didn’t reach their ears.

Then, he looked up and over his shoulder, raising his violin.

His accompanist gave a short nod, and without any further communication, Lance started playing.

It sounded slow and soft at first.  
Nothing special, not too different from the ones before him.

But then the intro was over, and the hand holding the bow hovered over the strings for a few seconds.

Lance narrowed his eyes and set off.

It still sounded calm as he played without putting too much force into it.

The woman behind him slowly put her fingers into position.

Lance’s eyes widened, a smirk crossing his face as he let the last notes ring out, and he raised his arm over his head.

Then he continued, and it hit the audience like a hurricane.

It was fast, sounding jumpy but calm at the same time, earning a certain kind of playfulness to it.

Nothing his rivals so far could hold up with.

The accompanist fought to stay on the same page, sweat dripping down her face as her fingers flew over the keys.

All around them people gasped loudly and murmurs echoed off the walls.

“This…”

“It’s… the same song, right?”

Keith inched onto the edge of his seat, his hands clenching at his sides.

No question, it was still the set piece.

But…

He watched Lance almost caress his violin as he suddenly sped up, with eyes held closed and his shoulders swaying along.

_“This is blasphemy! He’s even ignoring the pianist and going off on his own! He might as well be picking a fight with the composer at this point!”_ A sharp hiss suddenly cut through the room, and Keith’s eyes flickered off the stage for a second.

He recognized the judges in the first row, far below them, looking at each other and shaking their heads, shrugging helplessly.

As if on cue, the accompanist sent a disapproving frown at her partner.  
They were starting to clearly sound out of sync as she struggled to keep up.

Keith bit down on his lower lip.  
Yeah, sure, it was still The Kreutzer…

But this piece was no longer Beethoven’s.

There was no denying that Lance owned it.

And with one last move, he dragged his bow across his instrument, before raising it above his head.

It didn’t take a second until the crowd was flipping out.

Everything exploded in applause and cheers, even some whistles were thrown in.

Lance just stood there, his chest heaving, hands and face glistening with sweat.  
But his eyes were big and sparkling, a wide smile spread across his lips.

Pidge and Hunk next to him were almost screaming; he couldn’t care less to hold them back again this time though.

It was then, as the violinist’s relieved laugh completely drowned within the audience’s sounds of approval, that he realized Lance was absolutely beautiful.

* * *

 

People were still standing up and moving their hands.

Lance just continued to grin, waving.  
He stretched out his arms and bowed gratefully; behind him, his accompanist followed, though not as happily.  
She kept shooting him sour looks and had her fists stiff at her sides.

“Damn! The crowd’s still buzzing. You think he’ll win?”

Pidge’s voice was close to his ear, and he flinched.

“No,” he answered and shook his head.

Keith turned to see Pidge stare at him in shock.

“What the _fuck—“_

“There’s no way he’ll win or even place. Too many deductions,” he explained carefully. “Not playing the way the score’s written is a total taboo.”

“But everyone loved it!” Hunk chimed in, pouting sadly.

He shrugged helplessly and watched as Lance left the stage with a big smile, still waving back.  
“I could see it if this was a recital, but no way in a competition.”

Though he was sure, that fame probably wasn’t what Lance was seeking.

_“We are now taking a 15 minute break…”_

Keith couldn’t help but wonder how he could look so happy to be performing.

* * *

 

“Number 4 was totally awesome, huh?”

“Is what he did even allowed…?”

“That was Lance McClain, right?”

“Talk about a huge impact!”

Pidge elbowed him in the ribs.  
“Look, they’re all talking about him!”

“Well, he was really cool, wasn’t he?” Hunk questioned, munching on some snacks he got from a vending machine.

He shrugged.

(Yes, Hunk, he was magical.)

“U-Uhm… here!”

“Flowers, for you!”

“We w-were so, so... _moved!_ ”

“Woah, they’re really pretty! Thank you!”

Keith turned his head as the last sentence filtered through the other voices.

He found Lance standing not too far from them, holding a bouquet of flowers to his chest.  
Two very young girls were standing in front of him, one of them looking nervous while the other puffed out her chest.

One of the managers walked by; as he realized who he just passed, he slowed down.  
“Ah, Mr McClain! We’ll be posting the results thirty minutes after the last panel. Just so you know,” he informed over his shoulder, and Lance grinned and waved it off.

“Oh, don’t mind me! I don’t care about that stuff, really.”

Keith’s eyes widened, and he could clearly feel his mother's intense stare on him.

_“It means nothing unless you come in first.”_

Lance suddenly turned around.   
His eyes lit up as he found them, leaning there against a wall.

Returning his attention back to his little fans, he smiled.  
“Thanks again for the flowers. I gotta go, so, bye!”

After they nodded and said their goodbyes, Lance made his way over.

He was back in his clothes from before;  
A dark tank top, matching dark jeans, navy blue converse and his jacket tied around his waist.  
The case of his violin was resting on his back again; the gift he just got was held against his chest.

People turned to point and whisper as he sneaked his way through the crowd, but he didn’t seem to mind.

_The violinist who just finished performing, came running towards those who await him; weaving through the crowd, flowers in his arms._   
_Looking just like a scene out of a movie._

Hunk hurried past him, to meet Lance almost halfway.  
“You were so _cool_! We all loved it!”

Lance nodded, rubbing at his neck sheepishly.  
“Thanks, man!”

Pidge bumped his shoulder with hers.  
“Yo, Friend A,” she started but didn’t get further.

“Hey!”

Lance had jogged past Hunk and up to the two of them, wiggling his eyebrows.  
Suddenly, he was right in Keith’s face, eyes sparkling.

“What did you think?”

He took a step back, his fingers twitching at his sides.  
“H-Huh? Me?” Keith frowned, pushing up his glasses.

“Wasn’t I amazing?”

Lance didn’t follow this time.

“Uhm… See…” Keith started hesitantly, and Lance’s grin wavered.

“What… What did you— did you think?”  
His shoulders stiffened, grip around the flowers tightening.

Keith raised a hand to knead the back of his neck nervously.  
“Ah, uh… Not bad…”  
His eyes noticed the slight tremors to the violinist’s fingers and swallowed, his mouth suddenly feeling dry.

“I’ve never seen anyone get flowers after the prelims,” he distantly could hear himself say and his eyes flickered towards the girls from before, who were still giggling and watching them.  
“Not only that, but you don’t even know them, right?”

Lance shook his head, but it wasn’t necessary.

“They couldn’t have known to bring them, so for those girls… Hearing your performance, then rushing out to buy flowers to give you…”  
He searched for words.  
“It must’ve been… an unforgettable day. I think it was… _that_ kind of performance.”

Lance huffed out a humorless laugh, a strained smile pulling at his lips.  
“I see. Thanks, I guess.”  
He blinked, then a grin overtook once again, and he turned to hurry back to Hunk, laughing and gesturing wildly.

Pidge’s frowning and disapproving gaze burned holes into the sides of his face, but his eyes were glued onto the shells and stickers on a light blue violin case.

Straight out of a movie, really.

Although he only played Friend A.

* * *

 

_“We will now be announcing the names of the contestants who cleared the preliminaries…”_

“Ohh, I see my name!”

“What? Number 8 didn’t make it?”

“Hey, there’s yours…”

“Look! The audience’s choice makes it to the second round, too!”

Keith couldn’t take his eyes off those four words.

**Audience’s Choice:  
Lance McClain**

* * *

 

His mind was a mess.

It kept going back to Saturday’s events, and it was seriously annoying.

Keith could feel his eyebrows twitch.

Finally, with a frustrated shout, he sat up from where he just laid on the floor.

Another voice joined in and he flinched, his hands almost slipping on the scores scattered around him.  
He snapped his head around so fast he thought he felt something crack and winced, blinking at a spooked Hunk.

“What the heck, dude,” the other eventually wheezed, putting down the two drinks he brought on the desk next to him.  
“I thought you passed out or something! Are you alright?”

Keith sighed, raking a hand through his dark locks.  
“Yeah, fine.”

Hunk sat down on the piano’s seat in front of him and frowned.

“I was just… trying to clear my head,” he tried to explain and Hunk seemed to accept this answer.

Though now he seemed thoughtful.  
“It’s about Saturday, right?”

The pianist spluttered.  
“W-What? Why, what about it? Why would I—“

Hunk smiled sadly.  
“It’s Lance, right?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about—“

“Keith, we talked about this. And Pidge and I both are absolutely fine with it. You can talk to us, you know that, right?”

Ah, yeah.

It was a long night, full of tears and drama (on his part), reassuring jokes (hi Pidge) and lovely words (bless Hunk), but eventually they even laughed about it the next morning.

“Sure,” he mumbled. “It’s just…”

Hunk nodded encouragingly, smiling gently.

“He… Lance… He wanted to meet _you_ , Hunk,” Keith muttered and turned his head. “No way would he ever even… _like_ me.”

“That’s not true. Stop always putting yourself so low like that,” the other immediately interrupted with a frown.  
“I mean… For once I can’t say it will turn out well… I’m sorry,” he meekly added, and then his smile transformed into a weak version of it.  
“But I see how you look at him. He must look so _bright_ to you, doesn’t he?”

Keith just pulled up his shoulders.

Hunk sighed and slowly stood up.  
“Exactly this is why people fall so irrationally in love,” he whispered.

Keith closed his eyes.  
“I think I now know what Shay sees in you,” he sighed and couldn’t help a small smile.

A low chuckle met his ears and then there was a hand ruffling his hair.  
“I can assure you that everyone loves guys like me.”

The dark haired boy relaxed into his friend’s touch.  
“It’s impossible for me to be that guy, though,” escaped his lips before he could stop himself and he squeezed his eyes.

“Whether or not it’s impossible…”  
His friend’s hand rested heavily on his head.  
“The other person will let you know. Don’t worry.”

Keith blinked.  
“… You give good advice, Hunk.”

He could almost feel the smile coming back full swing.  
“Thanks, I guess. I’m trying.”

With that, the pressure disappeared and he was left alone with nothing but empty paper sheets, the bottle of water Hunk left him, and the memories of a fateful day.

He didn’t touch the piano once.

* * *

 

Keith took step after step, his fingers playing with the strap of his bag.

Before he knew it, against a screen of the evening’s bright red clouds, he heard the refrain against the black curtain of his closed eyes.

Over and over,

Again and again.

And every time, his heart…  
It was like what his mother left him scattered away.

He wanted to hear it again;

Yet at the same time, he didn’t.

_One more time…_

Keith’s feet slowly came to a halt as he rounded the corner of the school’s gates.

_I want to see him._

There he stood, the hands holding his own bag crossed behind his back, as he leaned against the gates just a few steps away; facing the ground with a gentle smile.

_And yet…_

At the sound of his steps faltering, Lance looked up in curiosity.

_I don’t._

His light blue eyes lit up with excitement, and he pushed himself off the gates to turn around and face him.

_What do you call this feeling again?_

Raising a hand, he pointed straight at Keith.

“Friend A!”

He took a step back at that, and Lance grinned.

“Where’s Hunk?”  
Jogging up to him, he looked over the other’s shoulders and again, Keith stepped aside uncomfortably.

“Hunk?”

“Yeah, I wanted to scare him, so I’m waiting here. Think he’ll be here soon?”

Everything around them was blooming.

It was distracting and made everything seem so much brighter, almost hurting his eyes.

Keith distantly remembered Hunk leaving before him, an arm around his girlfriend’s shoulders.  
He pursed his lips.

“Hunk’s…”

Go ahead and break his heart.

“He’s still… in practice. I think.”

… What?

Why?

“Oh. I see.”

He could only see Lance’s back from where he stood.

Slowly, the violinist set into motion.  
“Then maybe I’ll have a look at the soccer team!”

_Fuck._

Keith didn’t know why, but his feet stumbled to keep up and run after the other.  
“Ah, s-see, they’ve got their summer tournament coming up…”  
His voice trailed off hesitantly.  
“I don’t know if you should barge in on practice, y’know— Yeah, right, you probably shouldn’t! Hunk’s quite nervous about it, too…”

He almost collided with the other boy’s back.  
“Hmm, you do have a point…” Lance agreed thoughtfully and looked up at the sky. “If I interrupt… He’ll hate me, huh?”

Lance then finally turned around, wearing a thin smile.

Guilt made his stomach flip; though before he could save this whole disaster, Lance continued.

“Well, well! Then…”

Once again, he pointed at Keith with his right hand.

“I’m appointing you as his substitute!”

He could feel his body tense up, the soft breeze making him shiver.  
“… H-Huh?”

Lance just cocked his head and smiled softly.

Keith almost had to turn away, it was so blinding.  
Instead, he couldn’t really take his eyes off of the other.

Who would’ve thought that this year’s spring would be so special?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hahahaha what
> 
> hmu pls on my tumblr,
> 
> [gayspaceguys](http://gayspaceguys.tumblr.com/)


	3. Play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance just. won't. stop. He goes so far as to make a pact with the devil herself (gdi Pidge) and Keith's too tired to deal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> they all need some love and blankets with hot chocolate since like yesterday
> 
> also, please don't get too used to the current really fast updates! i'm just really motivated right now and spend almost all my time writing. i'll be back to work on monday though, so they'll slow down and i can't promise anything lol

Lance moaned loudly into his caramel waffles.

“I’ve always wanted to try this. Can’t believe what I missed!” He sighed around a mouthful.

At Keith’s disapproving glare he chewed and swallowed in silence, taking a sip of coffee right afterwards.  
“Oh, I _need_ to take a picture to show my siblings! They’ll be so jealous, it’s gonna be great. Maybe we even can do this for dessert someday, oh my _God_ —“  
He continued to ramble, groping for his phone.

Keith just sighed quietly.

_First I was an extra; now I’m a substitute? Huh._

“So, you bake?” He then asked just to distract himself.

“No, no, I don’t. My mom does, though! She’s really good.”  
After he stuffed his phone back into his pocket, he took another bite.

“ _Shit_ , I think I’m in love.”

Keith couldn’t help a small smile now.

 _He’s like a completely different person on stage_ , he realized thoughtfully, watching Lance put another forkful past his lips; cheeks blowing up like a hamster’s already.  
_When he plays he’s just so_ passionate _, and outside of it it’s just… this dorky kid._

A familiar sound unexpectedly filled the little café, and Keith slowly turned his head.

Two children were next to an elegant looking, white piano; a boy sat on a high stool and played a pretty complicated melody – ah, that’s Mozart’s arrangement of ‘Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star’, he noted absentmindedly –, while what looked like to be his twin sister watched him happily.

Lance leaned over the table, following his eyes.  
“Oh, I thought it was just a prop. Seems like you can really play it, huh?”

He drummed his fingers against the table’s surface, and Keith frowned at him.

“It sounds like such a happy piano, though,” Lance sighed. “Like it’s grinning from ear to ear while these children play with it.”

Keith pursed his lips and went to hold his glass of water with both his hands.  
“It’s a sad little piano, you know,” he argued quietly. “You should never put a piano near water, and yet they’ve decorated it with fresh flowers.”  
He nodded towards where the sound was still coming from; nodded at the two pots of colorful plants standing on it.

Lance gaped at that.  
Then, a determined expression made its way across his face, and he rose from his chair.  
Making his way over to the musicians (and ignoring Keith’s worried calls), he bent down to meet their eye level.

“That’s Mozart, right?” He spoke up friendly.

“Yeah! I learned this the other day in piano class, but I still can’t play it well,” the boy playing pouted.

Lance cocked his head in wonder.  
“Is that so? I think it sounded really good so far! But it _is_ pretty hard, huh?”

He seemed to really get along with kids, and Keith remembered the other mentioning siblings before.  
Was he curious about how big his family was? Nope. Totally not.

“Can you play the piano, mister?”

“Nah. But my friend over there—“

Keith raised his glass to his face, but as he realized what (or _who_ ) Lance was talking about, he almost dropped it.  
Oh _no_ , he knew _exactly_ —

“— is an _unbelievable_ pianist! Why don’t we ask him to teach us?”

Suddenly, the kids were running up to his table and bothering his personal space.

“What, _really_? So _cool_! Show me how?”

“Play for us, _please_!”

Lance followed, a smug expression on his face as he crossed his arms over his chest.

Keith frowned at him, uncomfortably shifting in his seat before his eyes flickered towards his guests.  
“Ah, no, I… I don’t play anymore…”

His comrade stood next to him all of a sudden, and he only realized that because there was only one person here to kick his legs out of nowhere.

A forced grin accompanied his twitching eyebrows.  
“Don’t embarrass me in front of these children,” he lowly hissed through his teeth.

Wincing, he turned back to see two very similar faces stare back at him starry eyed.

Keith bit his lip and making a decision, he could feel cold sweat making him shiver.

With heavy limbs he pushed back his chair and got to his feet.  
Reaching for one of what felt like thousands of black hair ties on his right wrist, he put it between his teeth as he moved to loosely pull his hair back.  
After he was done, he already felt too tired to move.

“Okay. Just a little, then,” he sighed quietly.

The children cheered, and as he walked towards the piano, he took off his flannel shirt and tied it around his waist, leaving him in his black shirt.

As he righted his glasses, the cold was a grounding but uncomfortable reminder of where he still was.

Hopping onto the stool, the boy expectantly looked up at him.

Lance stood on their left and lifted the boy’s sister up onto his shoulders so she could watch better.  
Pointing a finger, he counted in.

“Let’s go again together, yeah?”

While the boy put his left hand over the keys, Keith positioned his right one.

He ignored how it was trembling.

“Three, two…”

Together they started playing, completely in sync.

His partner’s play still sounded a bit jerky and slightly amateurish, but was otherwise fine; he found his fingers moving on their own, remembering which tiles to press.

“Twinkle, twinkle, little star…”

Keith almost missed when Lance’s calm voice joined in.

“How I wonder what you are…”

He wasn’t off key, but didn’t sound like a professional, either.

“Up above the world so high…”

They made a good team.

“Like a diamond in the sky…”

Next to them, the girl squealed in delight.

“Twinkle, twinkle, little star…”

Keith could feel a small smile forming on his lips.

“How I wonder what you are.”

Then the more complicated part came.  
His eyes narrowed, focusing on the monochrome buttons in front of his face.

Suddenly, his right hand was flying over the keys in familiar movements.

Strangers’ conversations died down, his little audience gasping in awe.

Lance’s eyes burned into his face.  
“See? A happy piano, I told you!”

Keith could almost hear the grin in his voice.

The boy kept up well enough with him, and he smiled thinly.

But then a shrill ringing filled his ears.  
His fingers jerked down, smashing the wrong keys in the process.

He couldn’t hear it.

Keith’s hand slipped off the piano in silence, and the boy whirled around on his seat with wide eyes.

“Huh? Why are you stopping?”

Quiet, confused murmurs picked up again.

The girl tugged at the hem of his shirt, frowning in irritation.  
“You can’t just stop playing in the middle of it!”

Keith shook his head and stepped back, clutching his trembling hand and pressing it against his chest; he couldn’t get the apology past his tight throat.

“You were so cool, mister! Please, one more time?”

His eyes widened in horror and flickered to the side.  
The girl stared up at him with a sad frown, Lance’s hand weakly grasping her shoulder; it looked like he wanted to hold her back, but didn’t know how or what else to do.  
Glancing up, he noticed the other staring at him with a pale and shocked expression.

Once more, he sharply shook his head.

His long hair mockingly tickled the base of his neck.

“ _Sorry_ — I’m so, _so_ … _sorry_ —“  
Keith’s voice sounded thin and shaky in his own ears, and he turned away to angrily rub at his face.

He hurried back to their table, pulled a 20 out of the pocket of his jeans and left it on the table.

Then he ran away from his problems like he always did, feeling Lance’s eyes on his back all the way before the door closed behind him.

* * *

 

Lance walked out of the café, stretching his arms above his head.

“Ahh, I’m so full…” he sighed tiredly.

He peeked up at the gentle laughter that reached his ears.  
On the other side of the street crouched Keith – he was still here? He thought he left already, to be honest, but hey, cool – and stroked a cat’s fur.

Within seconds, he was next to his substitute.

_“Oh my Goodness, a kitty—“_

Cooing, he came to a stop behind Keith, who just glanced up shortly.

The cat was purring, rubbing its slim black head into the boy’s palm.

“I used to have a black cat, just like this one. Though mine had this red patch of fur on her face, so I named her Red, like the creative child I was.”  
Keith chuckled weakly, not looking up.

Lance huffed carefully.  
“Oh, really? That’s sweet, though.”

All he got was a thoughtful hum.

A strange silence filled the air, and after a while, Lance crouched down, too.  
He peeked at the other’s face, noting that it was paler than usual and the other was abusing his lips with his teeth absently.

“So…”  
Lance thought over how he wanted to continue.

“You’re not gonna play the piano anymore?”

No answer this time.

He crossed his arms on his knees.  
“The youngest winner in history of the International Piano Protégé Competition. You deserved to win that, by the way.”  
Lance smiled softly.  
“Your playing style was accurate and disciplined – a human metronome, some people even called you. You were a prodigy who performed with an orchestra at, what? Eight?”

The street lights over their heads lit up as the sun was slowly setting.

Next to him, Keith smiled bitterly.  
“You’ve done your homework,” was all he replied quietly.

The other shrugged and blinked.  
“It’s common knowledge at this point. There isn’t a musician of our generation who hasn’t heard of you, y’know. Since you’re who we look up to.”  
He watched Keith’s expression fall; turning his head and eyelids dropping as his ponytail slid off his neck.

His comrade stopped petting the cat to reach up and adjust his glasses.

“Why did you quit playing?”

The animal’s unique, icy blue eyes never left Keith’s face as its tail brushed along the sidewalk.

“I…” He finally spoke up, shaky and unsure.

Keith cleared his throat.  
Taking a deep breath, he tried again.

“I can’t… hear the sound of the piano.”

Lance gasped and perked up, eyes wide.

Keith avoided even glancing his way.  
He just laughed humorlessly.

“How cliché, right?”  
He finally looked up to meet his eyes, and Lance almost recoiled at how they shimmered wetly.

“B-But, you just…”  
Confused, he got up to his feet, gesturing wildly.  
“You just played perfectly fine at the café!”

Keith followed slowly, smiling thinly.

“Sure, I can hear it at first,” he whispered and blinked at the ground, where the cat brushed his legs.  
“But… There’s a point, where… The more I concentrate, the more I get consumed in my performance… My brain just— just _snaps_ , I guess. There’s this… this _ringing_ , in my ears, and all the sound I create, just… _vanishes_. It, like, gets blocked out, as if my body is trying to... to  _protect_  me from it.”

“Oh,” Lance breathed dumbly.  
“So, that’s what happened before…”

“It otherwise doesn’t affect me at all, though. It’s only the sound of my own playing I can’t hear. It’s like... a punishment,” he continued quietly.

Lance froze, but Keith didn’t seem to notice.

“Even though… Even though I can hear the sounds of my fingers striking the keys, and the noise of… of them sinking…”  
He took a shuddering breath.  
“The only— only thing I can’t hear, is… i-is the sound of my own playing. This has… _has_ to be, my punishment.”

Before he knew it, his hands were gripping Keith’s slim shoulders painfully.  
Wide, purplish eyes were staring back at him in shock.

“Stop being such a baby!”

Uhm. Whoops.

The other’s expression was overshadowed by anger.  
_“W-What?”_ He snapped.

Lance leaned in closer, until they were almost nose to nose.  
He distantly noted that he was a few inches taller than Keith.

“You’re so _negative_! Play even if you can’t play! Try playing with a stick between your teeth like Beethoven! If you can’t move your hands, play with your feet! I don’t fucking care! Punishment, _my_ _ass_!” He cried heatedly.

_“That’s crazy—“_

“If you don’t have enough fingers, use your nose as well!”

“Mozart, too?!”

Lance huffed and roughly pushed the other away.

Keith stumbled, reaching up to grab one of his shoulders, but never taking his eyes off of Lance now.

Said boy just shook his head.  
“Whether you’re sad, or a mess, or you’ve even hit rock bottom – you still have to play! That’s how people like us survive.”

He watched Keith slightly perk up at that, clearly recalling the words within his head.

Then a thin smile formed on his pale face, straining his cheeks as he cocked his head slightly.  
“Maybe that’s true for you,” he huffed quietly and shrugged.

Lance was honestly kind of fed up with his comrade’s attitude.

Taking a deep breath, he crossed his arms and grinned.  
“I just made up my mind.”

Keith just tiredly raised an eyebrow in question.

“I’m appointing you as my accompanist!”

He watched a pair of shoulders stiffen.  
_“Excuse me?”_

The cat meowed and brushed his legs, so Lance bent down to pet it, avoiding Keith’s eyes.

“Well, since I won the Audience’s Award, I’ll be playing in the second round.”  
He picked it up and it purred in his arms, nuzzling into his chest.  
“Be my accompanist for that!”

“Didn’t you listen to me?!” Keith exploded, shaking his head furiously.  
“I can’t play! I can’t play, alright? I can’t hear what I’m playing!”

Lance rolled his eyes and pouted.  
“Quit your whining already! My mind’s made up, I told you. Just give in to your fate!”

He could feel Keith’s eyes on him.  
When he turned, he found him staring at him with an almost awestruck expression.

“Friend A,” he called proudly, “I hereby appoint you as my accompanist!”

Keith hid his face within the palms of his hands.

If he was crying, Lance sure as hell didn’t notice.  
Nope.

And if he himself shed a tear, too, it was because the wind stung his eyes.

Yup.

* * *

 

Pidge was slurping her coffee in peace when Keith ran past her, throwing a hurried “Morning!” over his shoulder.

She frowned.

“Mor—“

_“Come back here, you jerk!”_

When Lance thundered after her friend, she stopped to watch in surprise.

Keith literally screeched and cursed under his breath in what Pidge assumed to be Korean.

“I told you I just can’t do it, all right?!” He cried, just barely looking back.

A blue converse shot through the air, hitting the pianist in the back of his head.  
“Shut up and just be my damn accompanist!” Lance yelled and Keith howled in shock and pain.

It made his steps falter and stumble, and Lance took the chance to jump onto his back.  
His long legs clung to Keith’s middle like a snake, and his elbows locked around the other’s neck.

 _“What the_ fuck _, get_ off _me—!”_

 _“Just_ accept _already—!”_

Keith somehow made it around the corner of the street, even with another weight on his back, and their bickering voices faded off into the distance.

Behind her, she heard somebody drop their bag during the awkward silence.

Pidge took a deep breath.

 _“Boi._ What the actual _fuck?”_

* * *

 

Keith managed to throw Lance off at some point, but he didn’t dare to slow down.

Ambushing him at this early hour!  
What a dirty move!

He finally stumbled into the school after a while, where he tried to catch his breathing.

_“For the set piece, I decided on Saint-Saëns’ Introduction and Rondo Capriccioso, so I’ll bring you the sheet music tomorrow!”_

Well, he never even agreed to this!

Keith was never so eager to just sit down in his class already.

But for now, he hurried off to do just that.

* * *

 

“Have Keith play the accompaniment for your violin?”

Pidge blinked and glanced at Lance over the vegetables she was cutting, who was sheepishly rubbing his neck.  
“Yeah, well, I got dumped by my accompanist from the other day…” He admitted awkwardly.

His face instantly lit up again though.  
“But that guy’s insanely good on the piano, isn’t he?”  
Lance raised the spatula to his face and his eyes gleamed like a child’s on Christmas Eve.

The short girl shrugged.

Keith was amazing, really.

What she heard herself say, was:  
“Sure, I guess. How would you know, though?”

“Well, to anyone who plays music, he’s a total celebrity! That’s why I thought I’d ask him.”  
He swung the tool around sloppily.

Pidge pushed up her glasses with a frown.

“You don’t think… he’ll do it?”

She grabbed his wrist to hold up the spatula, smacking her onion down on it.

Lance gaped at it.

Then at her.

Pidge smirked.  
“I’m fucking psyched! He’ll agree in no time, don’t worry.”

She saw Lance visibly considering his life choices.

* * *

 

He was walking through the hallways when the music reached his ears.

Keith recognized it immediately.

Saint-Saëns’ Introduction and Rondo Capriccioso.

Other students were stopping to listen with confused expressions, exchanging weird glances before simply shrugging it off.

He couldn’t just do that, though.  
So, instead of going to meet his friends for lunch, he turned on the spot and made his way towards the music room.

The music was playing on repeat, growing louder as he came closer to his destination.

Bursting through the doors, his body froze right where he stood.  
His bag slipped through his sweaty fingers as he scanned the room in shock.

It was plastered with sheet music from floor to ceiling; the notes were everywhere, even on the piano and bookshelves, the blackboard and inside of the door.

Slamming the door back closed, he picked up his bag again and hurried off to throw away his lunch.

* * *

 

Keith opened his textbook to find the pages of his math homework stuffed with scores.

* * *

 

Opening his locker ended with him drowning in paper sheets, so he didn’t try that again for the rest of the day, either.

* * *

 

When he got home, he almost expected it to be full of black and white pages, too.

So, to say it was a surprise to find his room cleaned up and decorated in what looked like exactly _that_ , was a lie and he had enough.

Stumbling towards his window, he ripped it open and leaned out.  
“ _Pidge_ , I _know_ you’re fucking doi—“

The words died in his mouth when he stared at a window hidden beneath familiar sheets.

Keith took out his phone.

Flinging it across the room with a yelp right after looking at it, he stormed out and into his living room.

He hadn’t put a foot in here for _weeks_.

Well.

It seemed like a good day to sleep on the couch for once.

* * *

 

“Classical music?”

“ _Again_? They’ve been playing this same song for a week now!”

The voices outside the room continued to chatter on another topic as they drifted off.

Keith’s fingers moved, pushing through the air as they remembered every upcoming key.  
Resting on his back on the floor next to the piano with closed eyes, he imagined actually playing the piece.

As the last note rang through his head, his fingers wobbly lowered and he sighed.

“I just can’t do this,” he whispered meekly.

* * *

 

“So it’s tomorrow, huh…”

He sighed.

Pidge huffed and glance up from her notebook with a frown.  
“The way he’s been acting until now, Keith’s gonna bail for sure. But if it’s that what it’ll take, I’ll drag him there no matter what.”

Lance hesitated.  
“But… Are you really sure it’s okay? To just force him to accompany me?”

His friend rolled her eyes.  
“Yeah, yeah. With that stubborn guy you’ve gotta be a little pushy sometimes, it’s fine. He needs it. Don’t worry, I’ll get him to play with you. He just needs to get his shit together already.”

A small smile played around his lips as he fumbled with the sleeves of his jacket.  
“Sounds like you really care for him.”

Pidge let out another huff, but her expression softened.  
“Sure.”

“So…”  
Let’s just blow it.  
“You like him?”

Her eyebrows disappeared behind a few strands of light brown hair.  
“Nah, it’s not quite like that. To me he’s more like… this hopeless kid brother, y’know? Who needs someone to take care of him, like, almost 24/7, because he just can’t do it himself.”

Lance frowned as her expression turned almost mournful.  
“To be honest, I don’t care whether he plays that stupid piano or not,” she confessed quietly, looking out the window.  
Raindrops ran across it, stuck to it, making it hard to see past them.  
“It’s just… If he’s going to quit, I want him to quit on his own terms. It’s hard to see him like this, not living his life to the fullest, you know what I mean? Ever since…”

Pidge closed her notebook, clutching it tightly against her chest as her face scrunched up at what probably was a memory.

“Ever since _that_ day, Keith’s been trapped with nowhere to go.”

Glancing over at Lance, she smiled ruefully.

“Sometimes time _does_ just stop for some people, doesn’t it?”

No words made it past his lips.

So she shrugged and continued.  
“I just want him to play the piano, because I’m pretty sure something will change if he does.”

A bored voice sounded through the bus, interrupting their conversation.

“Ah, gotta get off here,” Pidge sighed.  
She put her notebook into her bag and went to leap onto her feet.

“See you tomorrow, then.”  
Waving over her shoulder, Lance nodded and watched her hop out of the vehicle.

His eyes flickered to read the next stop even though he knew it by heart.

Scooting over to take the window’s seat, he supported his head against the cool surface of the glass, as he reached up to press the button to request a stop.

The voice spoke up again, speakers cackling with static.

_“Altean University Hospital Entrance. Altean University Hospital…”_

Lance mouthed the familiar words along with a bitter smile.

* * *

 

Keith’s body stiffened at the sound of the door opening.

Unsteady steps came to an abrupt stop, before drifting away from him even further.  
He cautiously turned his head and took a sharp breath.

Lance had stumbled out of the door and towards the edge of the roof; now he stood there, panting and trying to catch his breath, with his hands resting against his thighs.

“W-What…”  
Keith choked out, heavily rubbing a hand over his face.

He watched Lance straighten up at his voice.

Not his top priority right now, though.

“What the heck are you doing at school?!” He eventually managed to cry out.

Lance whirled around with wide eyes, gently setting down his violin case.

“Isn’t today the day of the prelims?!”

With long, determined steps the taller boy made his way over.  
Both fists clenched at his side, with his head held high and usually calm blue eyes blazing.

He strode towards Keith and, with an irritated expression, grabbed him harshly by the collar of his shirt to tug him onto his feet; the sound of his glasses clattering to the ground in the process echoed through his brain.

Keith’s eyes widened in fear, his hands instinctively reaching up to weakly tug at Lance’s wrists with shaking fingers.  
Panic settled within the depths of his chest when the other didn’t budge.

“What am _I_ doing?”  
His hands suddenly felt numb, and he was distantly aware of them dropping limply to his sides.  
He couldn’t turn away, could do nothing more than stare into Lance’s blurry, burning eyes.  
“What the fuck are _you_ doing! I came to pick you up! Hiding out in a place like this— I looked all over for you, so let’s get going!”

Keith squeezed his eyes shut with a low whine.  
Suddenly, Lance was pushing himself off of him, and Keith stumbled backwards.  
His hands unconsciously reached out to brace himself against the wall behind him.  
With a stabbing pain his body collided with the bricks, but he only vaguely felt it; he was too busy to slide down and curl in on himself, his hands shaking against his chest before lifting them to grasp strands of his hair in each.

As his freaked breathing calmed down some, his fingertips tingled in a familiar sensation.

“I-I’m sorry, hey, this— this is… _Shit_ , I’m so _sorry_ , you didn’t deserve this. Are you okay? Hey, Kei–“

“But I’ve been _telling_ you, _all_ this _time_! I’m _not_ going to accompany you!”

“Please, _listen_ —“

“N-No, _you_ listen! There are, like, people who specialize in that! No way could I ever just jump in and do that!”  
Keith pulled his knees up to his chest, resting his forehead against it.  
“Even if we were to head over now, I… I couldn’t give a performance I could live with. I _can’t_ play the piano,” he whispered thinly.

Lance didn’t come closer again this time.  
But he crouched down where he stood, crossing his arms and frowning.

“That’s what’s kinda pissing me off. It’s not that you _can’t_ play – you just _won’t_.”

Keith slowly raised his head to peek through his hair and fingers.

_“’I can’t hear the sound of the piano’…”_

He flinched as his own words were thrown at his face.

“Stop using this as an excuse to run away.”

“But, I… I-I’m…” He hiccupped brokenly, “I’m just… so, _scared_ ,” he admitted quietly; eyes widening as the realization hit him.

Recognizing movement from the corner of his vision, he tensed up and shook his head, leaning away from what he assumed was Lance reaching out to him.

“It’s like I’m at the bottom of a dark sea, where I can’t hear anything…”  
His hands were too weak to hold on for now and just crashed into his lap.  
“There’s no one there, and it’s dark…”

Someone called his name, but he wasn’t on the roof anymore.

Instead he found himself sitting on a familiar piano seat on a very familiar stage, gripping his head at both sides.

“Weren’t you relieved the moment you stopped being able to hear it?”

Quiet footsteps inched closer, sounding weird and _different_ but not unknown to him.

“You found yourself an excuse. An excuse not to ever appear onstage again.”

Tears ran down beneath his glasses, ruining his suit.  
Through his blurry vision he recognized a small, dark figure stepping into his line of sight.

Bilious green, criticizing eyes faced him head on.

“After all, you’re no Beethoven!”

The stage around him lit up, and the sound of people talking disapprovingly with hushed voices seeped through his ears.

“H-Help me…” He whimpered anxiously.  
His heart was beating frantically against his tight chest.  
“ _Eomma,_ please, I c-can’t _hear_ …”

“Why isn’t he playing?”

“Did he forget how to?”

Someone…

“What a weird kid.”

“I’ve never seen this before…”

“It’s over.”

_Please—_

“Well, that’s one less competitor.”

“ _This_ is the frontrunner?”

“He probably finally cracked under the pressure.”

 _“Mommy…”_ he struggled to whine desperately, mind completely blank.

He’d be all alone at the bottom of the sea again.

“But you have me now, buddy!”

Keith blinked furiously.  
His vision sharpened just in time for him to take in the backtracking pair of hands, and he reached up to find his glasses back on his nose and a warm jacket laid out over his body like a blanket.  
He glanced down to see that it was Lance’s.

“Hey! There you are.”

Said guy rocked back on his heels with a relieved expression, scooting a few steps away from him and raising a hand.

“Let me talk. You looked… uncomfortable, so I… well, yeah.”  
He awkwardly scratched at his neck.  
“Also, again, I’m sorry. About before. But I’m just so mad? Like? Why can’t you see what a great guy you are? I mean, I think I finally get it. I know you can’t hear the sound of your playing, and you haven’t touched a piano in whatever. I know, okay? But I still want you. Why can’t you just see and accept that?”

Lance’s features turned somber.  
“Just like you said, we might not be able to turn in a performance that we can live with...”

Keith gulped, unable to take his eyes off of Lance’s.  
His fingers pressed the jacket to his chest, the warmth of it keeping him calm.

“But we’re going to play! As long as I have a chance to play, and as long as there’s an audience that is willing to listen… I’m going to play with everything I’ve got.”

A careful smile played around his lips.  
“So that the people who’ve heard me will never, ever forget me. I want to be able to live on in their hearts forever. That’s my reason for existing.”

He held out his right pinky.

“I’m a musician, after all! Just like you. We’ve gotta stick together, don’t we? So, please… Help a bro out?”

Keith watched his smile waver and didn’t know what to do.

“I don’t know who else could help me out,” he whispered, face falling as his bottom lip wobbled dangerously.

Raising his hand to try and stifle quiet hiccups, Lance still kept his other hand out for him to take, and Keith felt his body relax.  
Slowly; still oh so hesitantly, his fingers loosened around the violinist’s jacket.

_Hunk was right. Whether or not it’s impossible…_

Before he knew it, his own pinky gently hooked around Lance’s.

_I’m sure he’ll let me know._

Lance huffed out a weak, breathless laugh.  
“Your fingers are so thin!” He suddenly chuckled, and Keith could feel his face heat up.

But then his eyebrows scrunched up, and he squinted at their connected hands.

He hoped Lance couldn’t feel the tremors racking through his.  
“I’ll do it,” he whispered, voice trembling. “I’ll be your accompanist.”

The other boy perked up at that, his eyes wide.

“T-Though I’m not— not guaranteeing anything!” Keith hastily added.

Lance laughed, relieved, and nodded with a cheek straining, but earnest, smile.

With a loud bang, the door slammed open.

 _“Hah! Found you!”_ A familiar voice screeched.

Keith and Lance jumped to their feet; Keith just barely catching the other’s jacket before it fell to the ground, and then Pidge and Hunk were in front of them.

The latter was panting heavily, carrying a furious Pidge on his back.

“What the fuck are you doing?! We’ve been looking for you!”

She jumped down and left Hunk to collapse.  
Striding over, she pulled Keith down in a headlock.  
“Don’t you _dare_ run away again! Not if you call yourself a man!”

Pulling out her phone in a swift motion, she yelped.  
“If we run for it, we can make it in 20!”

Too much was happening for him to register correctly, but this last line made the blood rush out of his face.  
“ _In 20?_ I won’t be able to play decently!”

“Hey, guys, don’t worry, I planned it all out!”

Bless Hunk.

* * *

 

Keith found himself screaming his lungs out barely a few minutes later.

Clutching his notebook within his hands until his knuckles turned white, he didn’t know if he should keep looking at the piece or just hold on to Pidge in front of him.

“But will you be okay? What about practice? Have you rehearsed together?”

“No worries, no worries! We’ll figure it out! Because we _rule_! Hell yeah!”

“Don’t underestimate us! We can give you guys time to rehearse!” Pidge yelled and they rode down the street even faster, Hunk with Lance behind him catching up immediately.

“Shouldn’t you guys be in school?! And whose bikes even _are_ these?!” Keith cried out, eyes flickering between the notes and Pidge’s back.

“Don’t sweat the small stuff!” She replied, throwing a smirk over her shoulder.

“Oh my _God_ , we’re going to jail for stealing a fucking _bike_ —“

All he got was breathless laughter.

Lance beside them grinned at him.

If he recognized the mouthed _Thank You_ for what it was, he didn’t answer.

After all, he had to concentrate on memorizing the set piece.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rip in fucking pieces Keith #rdy3die


	4. Drowning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In (apparently not so) loving memory of Keith

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (why am i like this)
> 
> i didn't want to update again today, but [thidwick](http://thidwick.tumblr.com/) made this super lovely [fanart](http://thidwick.tumblr.com/post/150239430159/been-reading-terrible-things-by-gayspaceguys-and) and i cried for like an hour straight before getting super motivated again, so here i am lol  
> again, thank you so much!!

_“Listen to me, Keith. I want you to study the sheet music over and over, and to play it again and again and again. That’s how you’re going to perfect it. Just what the scores call for, just as the composer intended… perfectly and precisely.”_

Tick, tock, tick, tock, _went the metronome._

_“You’re off again! How many times do I have to tell you? You’re not going to bed until you can play that passage! Take a good look at it; it’s all there, right in the sheet music.”_

_People kept talking behind his back._

_“Kogane’s number 1 again?”_

_“I bet there’s notes plastered onto those glasses…”_

_“Did you hear? They hide the bruises from when she hits him.”_

_“He practices seven or eight hours a day, right? And that every day!”_

_“How can he stand a life like that…?”_

_“That boy really is just like a machine.”_

_Keith closed his eyes, fingers aching around the notebook against his chest._

_None of them knew what they were talking about._

_“I’m the only one who’s on Mom’s side,” he whispered under his breath._

_Of course nobody heard him._

* * *

 

“Look, look! We made it!”

“Wait, Keith— sneakers aren’t gonna cut it! Here, our feet are around the same, let’s swap—“

“Ah, thanks—!”

“Hurry, hurry!”

“Stop pulling at my arm—!”

“Suck it up! We’ll be going, then – see you guys later!”

Dragging the pianist along – nose buried within the scores, eyes flying –, Lance waved back at them as they hurried inside.

Hunk frowned as they parked their bikes.

“You think Keith can handle this?”

His short friend shrugged, stuffing her hands into the pockets of her jacket.  
“I don’t know. I sure hope so.”

They were silent as they followed the musicians.

* * *

 

His fingers were tapping against his notebook, trying to remember the melody.

Keith’s chest shuddered as cold sweat ran down his neck, and face, and back and _everywhere,_ really.  
He felt gross already.

This was beyond crazy.

He should have spent a lot of time practicing this, memorizing it with his whole body, fine-tuning it to the point where he didn’t need the sheet music anymore.

A few loose strands of hair were falling into his face and his eyes widened.

He’ll practically be sight-reading when he coordinated the piece with Lance!

And on top of that…

Such an insanely out-of-control violinist!

“I’m all set!”

There was movement on the edge of his vision, but he couldn’t take his eyes off the black and white pages in front of him.  
His hands continued to play.

“What tempo should we use? Take-no-prisoners, maybe?”

Lance was wiggling around in front of him, and it was unnerving as hell.

This was crazy, it was reckless—!

No way would he be able to turn in a decent performance like this—

“Hey, hey, look at my suit! Does it _suit_ me? Hah, hahaha! … It’s brand-new!”

He should just man up and back out, so it won’t sting as much.

They’d only humiliate themselves, going out like this.

Lance stopped moving and was silent.

Now it was too quiet; all he could hear was the blood rushing through his ears and his own wheezing intakes of air.

Then, before he could react, he got tugged forward by his tie.

Keith yelped when the other butted his own head against his.

“What the _heck_ , Lance?” He winced and reached up to touch his warm forehead.

Looking up, he saw Lance doing the same; squinting down at him where he sat in a plastic chair.

“Did you calm down?”

“Was that _necessary_?” He scowled.

Suddenly, Lance leaned down.  
Violin at his side, his blue eyes were serious, barely even blinking.

“Look at me,” he ordered calmly.

Keith frowned, slowly glancing up so their gazes met.  
His breath hitched in his throat.

“Look up, and _look at me,”_ the violinist repeated urgently.

Lance was resting his forehead against Keith’s, and the latter stiffened.

“You’re always looking down...”

Keith blinked, blindly reaching for his notebook he dropped before.

Blue eyes flickered down.  
Came back up right after.

“That’s why you’re imprisoned inside that cage of music scores.”

His own eyes widened.

Lance smiled.  
“Don’t worry, I know you can do it.”  
His expression softened.  
“You were listening to it right during lunch break, right?”

He remembered never even finding the device that blasted the music through the whole school.

“The sheet music was always somewhere in view, wasn’t it?”

No matter where he looked, it was always there.

Thanks to them.

Lance leaned back, nodding encouragingly.  
“I know you and I can do it.”  
He blinked once.  
Then he just barely visibly shrugged, a carefree smile lifting the corners of his lips as he stepped back.

Pointing up, he grinned.  
“Mozart’s watching us from up there. ‘Go on a journey’, he says; so, let’s go out there, and shame ourselves like crazy! Together!”

“Number 14, Mr McClain. Please get ready to go on.”

Lance just nodded in response to their interruption, not even turning to look at who called him.  
Instead he grabbed Keith’s hands with determined eyes, pulling him onto his feet.

“Let’s go!”

_“Are you listening, Keith?”_

Lance’s grip was the only thing that kept him moving, jogging through the hallways.

_“Just what the score calls for… It’s all there, right in the sheet music.”_

Keith shook his head; mind fuzzy and body weak.

He felt like he was on a roller coaster of emotions, and it was throwing him around and around mercilessly.

The blue of Lance’s back was hypnotizing.

‘Go on a journey’, huh?

Sometimes, it felt like the boy in front of him himself was the journey with no clear destination yet.

But he was also so much more.

“Freedom,” he whispered in awe.

They stopped just short in front of the passage leading to the stage.

Lance turned to look over his shoulders with an amused expression.  
“Nah, I’m not.”

He let go of Keith’s hand, stepping out of the darkness and into the lit up space in front of them.

“… but, music is.”

Keith’s eyes widened and they scurried towards where his instrument was standing like a rock in the surf; ready to be played.

“Come on, let’s go on a journey! Saint-Saëns is waiting for us.”

Together, they faced an adventure.

Keith kept his gaze straight on the back of Lance’s head as they walked, nervously reaching up to adjust his tie and glasses.  
His old gray suit, which Pidge’s parents brought over, hugged his body just a tad too tight; he didn’t grow much in the past few years, but it was enough for him to be slightly uncomfortable.

They came to a halt in the center, bowing dutifully.

He glanced up when the hushed voices spoke up.

“Look, look!”

“Hey, the accompanist is a kid, too.”

“Wait! Is that…”

Keith stepped back, organizing his sheets and lowering his seat.  
He was probably the shortest here today…

Lance was already ready to blast off, violin held against his chin, looking over his shoulder expectantly.

“That’s Kogane!”

“What, Keith Kogane?”

“It is!”

He scowled as he sat down, rolling his shoulders.

Lance seemed to chuckle quietly.  
Then he turned his attention towards their audience.

After mumbling something incomprehensible and taking a deep breath, he faced Keith once more.

His face felt really cold, his stomach thought it was a great time to backflip continuously, and his hands wouldn’t stop trembling.  
But Keith gulped and nodded shakily.

Lance narrowed his eyes for a second.  
His face softened.

“Your face is totally frozen right now, man,” he whispered warmly.

He whirled around, raising his bow.

Keith shuddered, glancing up at the lights.

_A song dedicated to the virtuoso violinist, Sarasate…_

_Saint-Saëns Introduction and Rondo Capriccioso._

He closed his eyes, positioning his fingers.  
They hovered carefully over the keys for a second, before pressing down gingerly.

Lance joined in only seconds later, his shoulders swaying along passionately.

Keith’s fingers kept dancing.  
He frowned anxiously.

All right.

Not a bad start.

He could still hear the sound, too…  
Lance was still going after the notes, slow and calm.

Glancing up at the sheets every now and then, he couldn’t get his shoulders to relax.

But he was glad they were doing this song.

There were some parts where he could go off-key…

If he listened closely to the violin, though, and kept an eye on the scores…

Technically, it wasn’t a difficult song.

Then Lance turned halfway as he raised his bow over his head, letting the last notes ring off; narrowing his eyes and peering over, and Keith’s widened.

The violinist continued so fast, he just barely got the next keys.

Speeding up and up and up.

His fingers flew over the tiles, struggling to keep up with the sudden change of pace.

Something out of the corner of his vision caught his eye, and he peeked through dark locks towards the crowd.

His eyes widened until they started to hurt and his glasses slipped as his body moved jerkily, pressing down too hard in terror.

There she was, a bit further up the back this time, but she was here and watching him and it was enough.  
Catching the smirk and disappointed shake of her head, he almost froze up on the spot; hurrying to try and focus back on the scores.

In front of him, the notes were floating off the sheets.  
Leaving behind nothing but useless papers, his heart was fluttering against his ribs like a caged bird.

Everything blurred into one another.

Distantly, he realized that Lance got to a slower part, and he tried to adapt.

Keith’s fingers became slippery.  
He could feel the pressure on his ears closing in and he panicked.

_No, no, no, not now—!_

The piano was silent, like somebody cut off all its strings.  
He desperately smashed the keys harder.  
His feet were working the pedals, but his head slowly filled with the sound of being underwater.

Keith couldn’t breathe.  
He leaned forward, trying to put his whole body weight into his pushes; faintly, he could hear the keys sinking, clacking against the piano itself.

There still was no sound.

(He thought he saw Lance look over his shoulder in alarm, but that was probably another trick of his imagination.)

No notes he could orientate himself at, no available music to guide him.

Keith could only guess how out of sync they must be right now.  
He was trying, trying, _trying_ _so hard_ , but it was no use.

Frantically, his fingers skidded over the keys in a sloppy motion.

It was only the piano in front of him.

Keith blinked, and then he was crouching and leaning into his knees.  
Beneath him he found fine sand; nothing but darkness surrounding him.

Slowly, slowly, he reached out towards the surface, where he could tell that the light was getting through just one inch at a time.

He opened his mouth to call for help, but water filled his lungs immediately, making him tear up and grab at his throat.

_No, please, don’t—!_

It was dark, so very dark and lonely.

He gasped.  
Suddenly, he was again greeted by the sight of the way too familiar keys.

His hands were trembling.  
Unable to get them to relax, either, he knew they’d ache tomorrow.  
They were already cramping up and twitching from strain, jerking down almost uncontrollably.

Keith was pounding the keys so, _so_ hard…

So _why_?!

Why was the only thing he couldn’t hear his own playing?!

He bit down on his lower lip in frustration, angry tears burning and pricking at his eyes.

Then he slammed his hands down one last time.

(Nothing.)

They went limp right away, hopelessly slipping off the keys.

Shocked gasps echoed through the room as he buried his head within his palms.  
It felt hot, and wet, and kind of hurt, but he couldn’t care less.

This was for the better.

Lance didn’t deserve to have his performance messed up for him, just because he couldn't get his shit together.

Speaking of which, the violinist was still on it.

He could hear the magical sound of the bow caressing the strings, but he just couldn’t focus on it.

“Huh… That piano playing was lousy…”

“That guy shouldn’t ruin it for the performer!”

“He probably shouldn’t even have performed in the first place...”

“I’m s-sorry,” he whispered shakily.

_If I keep playing like this…_

_I’ll only get you into trouble._

Silence fell upon the whole room; you could probably hear the drop of a needle, and his eyes widened, hands sliding down his cheeks.

“No way! Even the violinist stopped playing!”

“It’s over…”

“Why did he stop?”

“D’aww, and he was so cool…”

He pursed his lips.

_“I know you and I can do it.”_

_“I’m appointing you as my accompanist!”_

_“I don’t know who else could help me out...”_

_“But I still want you.”_

Keith cautiously glanced up at Lance’s heaving back, bow resting at his side.

_“I’m going to play with everything I’ve got. So that the people who’ve heard me will never, ever forget me.”_

_“I’m a musician, after all!”_

Slowly, he moved so they’d face each other, and blinked almost owlishly.  
Then, his lips curled into an excited grin.

“Again!”

Keith held his breath.

But Lance already turned back around, head held high.  
His violin was back in position in a matter of seconds, and its gentle tune echoed off the walls right after.

It was useless.

After they stopped, nothing would count.  
They weren't disqualified as long they were within time limit, but…

Oh, how disappointed his mother would be.

Eyes flickering to his right, he found her gone and blinked.

Hurrying to straighten his back he was relieved to find the notes back on his sheets, as if they never even left.

_“I know you and I can do it.”_

He still felt Lance’s touch against his skin.

_I saw the resolve in your eyes back then…_

_“You’re always looking down…”_

_So what was it that you saw in me?_

_“Look up, and_ look at me _.”_

His eyes narrowed.

Oh, he did.  
All the time.

With a wobbly smirk, his fingers shot down.

He could clearly see Lance perk up from the corner of his sight and smiled contentedly.

The piano still sounded dull to his ears.  
It was weak and far away, but he could hear it.

“Focus…” He breathed and frowned.

“Focus, focus, focus…”

Keith could tell that he was going too fast now; they were out of sync again.  
His fingers pushed down, again and again and _again,_ _and—_

_“Are you listening, Keith?”_

_His lips parted to gape dumbly up at his mother._

_She chuckled, smiling down at him in amusement._  
_“You mustn’t play so violently.”_  
 _Reaching out, she ruffled his hair._

_“The piano is you.”_

_Keith blinked, pouting and frowning._

_“If you touch it gently, it will smile!”_

_His eyes flickered towards said instrument, an astonished “Ohh!” passing his lips._

_“If you pound with force, it will become enraged. Touch it like you’re carrying a baby instead!”_

_Patiently, she crouched down again next to where he sat on his seat, to meet him on eye level.  
“Alright. Again!”_

_Slowly, carefully, his stubby fingers brushed against the keys, barely putting any pressure into the touch._

_“Twinkle, twinkle, little star…”_

_He giggled, closing his eyes as he played a melody his body already knew like he owned it._

Keith couldn’t help the smile appearing on his sweaty face.

_If you can’t hear the sound…_

His long, skinny fingers barely touched the monochrome tiles.

_... then imagine it!_

Rolling his shoulders again, they suddenly loosened up.

_Play it with your whole body…_

He squeezed his eyes shut, concentrating with everything he had.

_And draw out what Mom left me!_

It was exhausting.  
Keith has probably never felt so tired.

But he finally managed a pace that kind of matched Lance’s.

No, they totally were in sync again…

Huffing out a weak laugh – sounding more like a sob than anything else, really – his fingers continued to dance once more.

They were flying, flying, _flying_ over the keys, and it felt _right_.

Lance played louder, as if trying to over tune him.

He glanced up just in time to see the violinist throw a sparkling glare over his shoulder.

_“Holy fuck you guys! Show ‘em how we do it!”_

_“Oh my God Pidge shut up they’re gonna kick us out—”_

A strained smile teared at his cheeks.

But it was hard to hold back.

He was no accompanist; no, he was a soloist, just like _him_.

And right now Lance was moving him with such power, like the pounding of his own heart.

He could hear him; he was there.

Right next to him, on the same stage.

Playing with him.

And finally, finally, his hands jumped off the keys one last time, hovering high up above the instrument’s body.

Keith blinked.  
The light, cloudless sky above him was calm, just like the breeze playing with his long hair.

He flexed his fingers against the pretty scenery; not even feeling the strain of a performance.

As he slowly lowered his hands, his heavy eyes drooped in fatigue.

“Spring will be over soon,” he whispered ruefully.

Another, soft hand gently caught hold of his own and he squeezed back.

He’d say goodbye to it when the time came.

* * *

 

Loud cheering pulled him back on stage.

Keith flinched, head snapping up.

The whole hall was standing, whistling, clapping and yelling.

_The dry air-conditioning…_

Panting, he turned to look at Lance who didn’t look any better off.

_… and the scent of dust._

Lance slowly raised his chin, staring at the ceiling with wide eyes.

_This… Is where our journey began._

And without any warning, his violinist collapsed right in front of him.

* * *

 

  _Maybe there’s only a dark road up ahead…_

_But you still have to believe and keep going!_

_Believe that the stars will light your path;_

_Even just a little bit._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whoops. rip in fucking pieces, too, lance 
> 
> message me, send me asks or tag me in stuff on my tumblr ----->
> 
>  
> 
> [gayspaceguys](http://gayspaceguys.tumblr.com/)


	5. Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lots of stuff that leads to Keith making a stupid ass decision and him and Lance jumping off a bridge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is this fluff?? Or angst?? Or both???? Who knows

_“Ah, this feels so good!”_

_“Keith! C’mon!”_

_The dark haired boy gulped and stepped back from the bridge’s railing.  
“I— I think I’ll pass,” he declined meekly._

_“You’ll go if you’re a man!”_

_“This thing’s life changing!”_

_Nervously, he twirled his thumbs around each other.  
“B-But I have a lesson… My mom’s gonna yell at me…”_

_He thought they’d finally left him alone._

_(Of course they didn’t.)_

_Pidge appeared next to him, scowling angrily.  
She wrestled him from behind and he tried to squirm his way out of her grasp;_

_Instead, he found himself on her shoulders._

_“Put me down, put me down!” He screeched, pulling at her long hair in fear._

_His friend hissed and jumped backwards.  
Her back hit the railing and he felt the both of them struggling to keep their balance._

_Keith could feel Pidge’s grip on his legs loosen._  
_He was slowly but surely slipping from his place, and suddenly there was nothing beneath him._  
_A hand grabbed his foot before he completely was over the barrier._

_Pidge’s wide eyes stared back at him._

_Next he knew, they were both falling._

_Over his own cry he could hear Hunk yelling._

_“Pidge, no! Watch out, he can’t swim—!”_

_Then his body collided with the surface of the river, before the waves he created himself clashed above him._

* * *

 

 _Keith woke up spluttering._  
_His back arched, and he turned onto his side on trembling arms to let the water out of his system._  
_Pebbles stung the palms of his hands and he winced._

_“Keith!”_

_“Ohh, I’m so glad! Look, Pidge, he’s back!”_

_“Yeah, idiot, I see that!”_

_Pidge suddenly crouched in front of him, frowning._  
_Her long, wet hair hugged her body like a second jacket, even almost reaching the ground as she sat that way._  
_“Are you okay?”_

_He couldn’t help but giggle as soon as he found the energy to._

_Pidge glanced at something over his shoulder._

_He assumed that Hunk hovered behind him._

_“Again! Again!”_

_“_ What _? You almost drowned!”  
Yup. Right behind him._

_Hunk’s big, warm hands gently rubbed the small of his back._

_“Oh ho ho, he’s addicted now!”_

_“Pidge, no, don’t encourage him—!”_

_“Let’s go!”_

_Only few moments later he clung to Hunk’s back, laughing as Pidge staggered up the hillock to get back to the bridge._

_His lesson could wait._

* * *

 

“You really threw us a curve there, getting hospitalized like this!”

“Well, my dad’s so over-the-top. I’m only here for routine testing, just to make sure.”

Keith squinted down at his lap.  
He kept kneading the back of his hands, his fingers, his palms; turned and twisted the thin skin there.  
“Have you ever passed out like that before?” The pianist quietly spoke up.

“Nah, it’s the first time.”  
He could hear Lance wiggling around on the edge of the bed, bedsheets rustling.  
“I’ve always been a little anemic, though, so this is a good chance to get thoroughly tested.”

A breathy laugh reached his ears and his shoulders stiffened.

“I guess I pushed myself a little too hard,” Lance sighed. “Y’know, all that violin practice…”

His face was burning, and he glanced up to find Lance rolling his eyes at him with a small smile.  
“… and not to mention chasing after Mr-Escape-Artist all week long!”

Keith flinched and avoided meeting his eyes again.

Someone kicked his legs and he winced, scowling at Pidge next to him through his bangs.  
She was pursing her lips, repeating the action.

Lance laughed as he tried to scoot his chair away from hers, but she followed.

Hunk’s soothing voice fell on deaf ears.

But his eyes kept being drawn back to the boy on the hospital bed and again, he dared to peek up.

They didn’t make it to the next round.

Unprecedented.  
One mishap after another.  
A no-brainer for disqualification.  
Ineligible.  
Performance interrupted.

The worst possible scenario.

And he caused it.

His mind was drifting off like it did so often lately, going back to everything that happened not long ago.

Sure, it was his fault they didn’t make it.

It also really sounded like it was his fault that Lance was where he’s at now.

Was it?

Yeah. Probably.

“Hey, let’s go. We shouldn’t outstay our welcome.”

“Aw, but I want to spend the night!”

He blinked as the ruckus pulled him from his thoughts.

Pidge was trying to maneuver Hunk out of the door.  
“Bye, Lance, see ya at school!” She called over her shoulder.

Lance sat turned towards the door, waving.

Keith dragged his hands down his face, grabbing his bag lying next to his feet and getting up.  
Stiffly, he moved to follow his friends, nodding halfheartedly at Lance.

“Hey, uhm, wait—“

He stopped in the doorway, one hand resting against the frame, but didn’t turn around.

Behind him, Lance shuffled around again.  
“Have you… been playing the piano?”

Keith squeezed his eyes shut.

_Slowly, his finger pressed down the key._

_Again, and again, and again._

_His chest was heaving._

_The clonking sound of them striking the piano echoed through his room._

_Breath after breath he squeezed out, trying to regain his composure, but to no avail._

_He clamped his hands over his ears and felt his legs giving in beneath him._

_Scores rustled and crumpled beneath his knees._

_He desperately squeezed his eyes shut to hold back the pressure of tears coming in, letting out a strangled noise._

_Well.  
He didn’t expect anything to change._

_So why did he even bother?_

“No. I haven’t been playing,” he whispered.

“Oh. Why not?”

His breath hitched and his eyes snapped open.

Something flared within the depths of his stomach, and he clenched his hand into a fist at his side.  
“It’s like I have nothing to offer but my piano playing,” he pressed out between gritted teeth.

For just a second, the silence was deafening.

“Is that… a bad thing?”

With more force than necessary, the door closed behind him.

* * *

 

“What were you talking about with Lance?”

Keith felt Pidge’s arm brush against his.  
“Ah, nothing major…”

“Then you shouldn’t mind telling me.”

His eyes followed the pacing Hunk, talking quietly on his phone.

“Is… playing the piano all I have to offer?”

“What? No, not at all, dummy! You have lots of good qualities, Keith. For example…”

Raising a hand to twirl his hair around his fingers, he glanced up.

Pidge was blinking at her fingers, apparently trying to count it off, but suddenly she slapped his shoulders and pointed up with a wide grin.

“Hey, look at how gray the sky is! But there, the sun fights through the clouds! Ain't that pretty?”

A small smile played around the corners of his lips and he hugged his arms close to his chest.

“Yeah,” he whispered calmly.

It was raining, but she was right.

In more ways than one.

* * *

 

He had his nose buried within a book as he walked.

Loud cheers and yells distantly registered within his brain before the loud call of his name did.

The big fence clinked as Hunk threw himself at it and he jumped, almost throwing away his lecture before his ass hit the floor.

“Keith, Keith! Did you see the shot I just made?!”

“The only thing I saw you do is giving me a heart attack,” he muttered, pressing a hand against his chest and frowning at the ground.

His heart fluttered erratically beneath his skin.

Hunk huffed out a laugh.  
Then he snatched his phone out of his pockets and lightning left him blinking wildly for a second.  
“Wha—?”

“I’m sending this to Lance,” he explained innocently, turning around to lean with his back against the fence.

Keith scowled, reaching up to adjust his glasses before they managed to slide down any further.

So they already exchanged numbers, huh.

“… Hey, let’s visit him tomorrow.”

He froze, hand held in midair.

 “I heard he’s getting discharged the day after! Let’s bring him a present or something.”

Heavily, he pushed himself up.  
His hands were scraped red and burning angrily from catching his weight against the pavement.

“I’m gonna pass. You should go by yourself, Hunk.”

He didn’t bother pushing his bangs out of his face.  
“I’d feel awkward, since I’m… the one who made a fiasco out of his performance,” he added quietly, voice barely above a whisper.

Keith closed his eyes.

Besides…

“But you were the one he leaned on.”

He remembered Lance looking at him over his shoulder in alarm.

_“Again!”_

Sighing in exhaustion, he pulled up his shoulders.  
“That’s only because I’m the one who can play the piano.”

Really, that’s all there was to it.

_Panting, he turned to look at Lance who didn’t look any better off._

_Lance slowly raised his chin, staring at the ceiling with wide eyes._

Hunk pouted.  
“C’mon, now! That’s not true. Let’s ask him tomorrow, alright? You come on along, you hear me?”

“Hunk! The captain shouldn’t be slacking!” One of his team members yelled.  
Laughing followed and Keith turned his head.

“Stay and watch all the dazzling shots I master!”

Keith huffed and rolled his eyes.  
“I’ll pass. But sounds like you’re pumped.”

“Sure I am! Our final tournament’s just around the corner!”

His friend turned around, shrugging.  
“Besides, after seeing that spectacle of yours… How could I not?”

Hunk grinned excitedly.  
“The way you two were that day… I’ll never forget it!”

With a short wave, he jogged back onto the field, already back to gesturing with his team.

Keith blinked, letting out a shuddering breath.  
_“I’ll never forget it!”_

A single drop of rain splashed against the right of his glasses, running down and streaking across his vision.

Before he knew it, it was raining buckets.

* * *

 

Lance listened to the rain fall against his window in a steady motion.

His fingers tightened around the seams of the blanket.

“The piano is clearly just a part of you,” he whispered under his breath, blinking at the way his muscles moved beneath his skin.

But in that moment, without a doubt…

“It was everything for you.”

And he was trying to rip it away by force.

“As if you were plucking off your limbs…”

That’s why it hurts too much for him to bear.

“Your face says the suffering is so painful, too painful to bear…”

Lance closed his eyes.  
“Will you ever be able to forget and move on, I wonder?” He breathed.

Outside, the rain raged.

* * *

 

Keith was running.  
He was clutching the strap of his bag within one hand, drenched in water from head to toes.

His feet pounded against the sidewalk.  
Forcing his protesting limbs to go faster, faster, _faster_ , he almost slipped a few times, but managed to keep his balance.

Not wanting to waste any time, he finally stumbled through his door; just barely remembering to push off his shoes and drop his bag.

Next he was skidding through the hallway and slamming open a familiar door, panting heavily.

Everything looked like he left it;

Notebooks and paper sheets scattered everywhere.

Books and boxes resting on a dusty surface.

Just barely any light got through the only halfway opened blinds.

His eyes widened.

* * *

 

Lance smiled.  
Nope, not a chance.

“Because you and I… we are living for that moment.”

He was back on stage, his chest working hard to keep up.

_Behind him, he could hear Keith almost wheezing as cheers and applause filled the room._

“Because you’re a musician, just like me…”

_The piano’s seat squeaked as Keith moved.  
Lance could hear him gasp and stagger to his feet, stumbling to a stop just a step behind him._

_Together, they bowed._

“Unprecedented. One mishap after another…”

_They just let it wash over them, still trying to catch their breaths._

_“Even so… the people here won’t ever forget us,” Lance spoke just so loud he hoped Keith could hear him._

_“Just like… I won’t ever forget.”_

_He could feel Keith’s gaze slowly resting on his wet face, where tears suddenly joined sweat._

_“Even if I die, I promise I won’t forget…”_

_Lance peered over, taking in his accompanist's dazed and exhausted expression._

_“Thank you,” he whispered._

_Keith was now staring at somewhere between the audience and the stage below them.  
He didn’t seem completely coherent right now and Lance chuckled softly._

_“It’s all thanks to you…”_

_The other turned his head a bit, apparently listening through what Lance assumed was the ringing in his ears Keith told him about.  
For a second Lance felt sorry for overwhelming him like that._

_“Because you accompanied me. Because you played the piano for me…”_

_But he needed to get this out._

_Keith sluggishly glanced up at him, blinking owlishly.  
He was still breathing heavily and Lance worried he might start to hyperventilate if he didn’t calm down soon._

_He closed his eyes, just for a second._

_Then, he, too, turned to face his partner with a blurry vision._

_“Thank you, Keith Kogane,” he breathed._

_Keith tilted his head just the slightest bit._

_And then they had to move._

* * *

 

_Keith just wanted to sleep for the rest of his life._

_As he followed Lance off the stage his fingers kept twitching at his sides, and he had to blink continuously so his eyes would stay open.  
His chest continued to shudder with shaky breaths he couldn’t seem to calm down._

_Lance was merciless._

_Even from the back, he wouldn’t let him give up._

“I don’t know who else could help me out…”

_Keith pursed his lips._

The one who was being helped…

Was me.

Thank you.

Thank you…

_Lance’s steps faltered, so he slowly perked up._

_Keith’s eyes widened as he blinked the tears away._

_And without any warnings, Lance went down right in front of him._

_He felt his own knees crash into the stage below him, and his violinist sprawled out in front of him was the last thing he remembered._

_Next time he blinked, he was backstage and Pidge was gently slapping his cheeks and holding a bottle of water against his lips.  
She and Hunk told him how he went unresponsive towards everything and everyone, like his mind and body just shut down, overwhelmed with the whole situation; but not completely, like Lance’s did._

_They told him that their friend was brought to the hospital, and everything else was an unimportant blur._

* * *

 

Lance sighed.

“I see…” he whispered with a thin smile.

“So I passed out again…”

* * *

 

Pidge’s eyes widened.

“Oh, shit—“

Her fingers slipped on the ball, and some people cheered as it hit the ground way too early.

“Safe!” Another voice yelled.

A whistle blew shrilly.

Panting, she bent over to rest her hands against her thighs.

She hissed out an angry _“Tsk”._

* * *

 

“Jump, jump!”

They laughed as the water splashed upwards.

Pidge frowned at the children on the bridge.

“The water’s way too cold now, what the fuck? Kids are so weird…”

Her brother rolled his eyes.  
“You used to dive from the ‘Courage Bridge’ all the time,” Matt pointed out, raising his eyebrows. “Not to mention, always shoving Keith off it…”

Pidge pouted.  
“That was no biggie! Keith always laughed it off himself.”

“I wouldn’t call that ‘no biggie’…”

She turned her head.  
Sure it was. She knew firsthand, after all.

“Hey, did something happen between you two…?”

The short girl spluttered.  
“W-What? No, not a thing!”

Matt frowned, but sighed and shrugged.  
“Well, okay, then. But… Being upbeat is like your only saving grace. Yesterday and today, you were kind of off, sis…”

“Hey! If that isn’t the Holts!”

They turned towards the new voice.

“Oh, hey, Rover!” Matt greeted in surprise. “Long time no see!”

“Indeed!” The newcomer agreed with a smile, running a hand through his dark, short hair.  
He glanced at Pidge.  
“Haven’t seen you since graduation,” he added carefully.

She could feel her brother’s eyes on her.

Yet, she just smiled back.

* * *

 

Matt left to go grocery shopping at the market around the corner, while Pidge made her way home with her companion.

“So, how’s college?”

“Oh, don’t even mention it!” Rover chuckled and sighed. “It’s really tough, but hey, who am I to complain? But this new team just won’t let me play shortstop. Otherwise, I’d be the best, y’know?”

Ah, right.  
Rover used to be the captain of their baseball team.

Hot, dependable, and the one all the girls dreamed about.

 _So unlike someone else,_ she thought unconsciously. _A complete tool, not to be depended on, and no one’s idea of a dreamboat…_

But it was okay.

After all, she _did_ know that Keith had lots of good qualities besides playing the piano!

“Huh, looks like rain again…” Rover threw in, glancing at her.

It’s okay.

Rover stopped behind her.

So, why was she feeling so uneasy?

“Hey, Pidge…”

She stopped and turned, too.  
“Yeah?”

He shuffled around on the spot, eyes flickering around.  
“This was no coincidence, see…”

Rover was blushing.

Her eyes widened.

_The former captain of our baseball team._

_Hot, dependable, and the one all the girls dreamed about._

_I dreamed about him, too._

_But I was never able to tell him…_

_And my love melted away with the snow on graduation day, and it was over._

_That’s the kind of love I thought it was._

“Look… I’m serious about this, okay?”

She was happy.

She really was.

And yet, why…

Why wasn’t her heart sparkling, she wondered?

* * *

 

Keith stumbled behind the corner he just walked around, cautiously peering around it.

He watched Lance lean against the row of lockers, tapping away on his smartphone.

So he’s back out of the hospital…

His fingers tightened around the strap of his bag.

All right.

He took a deep breath and set to move, but then froze.

Lance perked up, and suddenly Hunk was right in front of him, showing off his lunch box.  
The violinist seemed impressed; with sparkling eyes, they jumped straight into conversation.

Keith felt a humorless smile pull at his lips.

He closed his eyes and turned around.

* * *

 

Really, he really shouldn’t get a wrong idea.

All Lance needed was an accompanist.

Nothing more, nothing else.

Blinking, he looked up from the book he was holding as he walked home.

“Hop, skip, jump! Hop, skip, jump!”

Two children were playing on the bridge he had to cross.

“Hop… jump!”

Lance was grinning at him over the children’s heads and Keith had to force himself not to shy away and turn on the spot.

Why was that guy always appearing out of nowhere…?

The children giggled and ran behind Lance.

Lance waved.  
“Yo!”

He hesitated.  
“What… are you doing?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”  
Lance cocked his head, frowning at him.  
“We’re playing hopscotch!”

“He said he was waiting for someone!” A little girl yelled, nodding along to her own words.

“Yeah!” The other agreed, and Lance was hurrying to hush them.

They looked at him clueless.

He tsked and turned back to face Keith.  
Eventually, he pouted and held out a hand, waiting expectantly.

“Here.”

Keith took a step back, closing his book.

“Why are you holding out your hand?”

“My gift for getting out of the hospital. I’ll take it now.”

He frowned.  
“… What?”

Lance’s eyes widened.  
“No gift?”

Before he knew it, the other boy was kneeling on the ground, fake-crying and the children hovering around him.

“That’s horrible! Hunk gave me flowers!” He whined loudly. “And you’re the one who made such a mess out of my performance, when I was gunning to win it all!”

Keith gasped.  
“You liar!”

“Hey, don’t make him cry!” One of the girls scolded, while the other crossed her arms.

“Alright, alright! I’ll do something for you, okay?” He threw his hands into the air helplessly.

Instantly, the crying stopped and he scowled.

“You’ll do anything I ask?” Lance asked quietly, still kneeling.

“Sure, sure,” he grumbled.

“No matter what?” The other made sure.

“Sure,” he repeated impatiently.

Lance cheered and jumped up, the children joining in and Keith’s eyes widened.

He slapped a hand over his mouth.

“Hmm, what should I ask for?” Lance teased, raising a finger to his chin in mocking thought.  
The shiteating grin betrayed his whole show, though.

“Ah, I know!”

Keith took a deep breath at the serious change in Lance’s voice.

“Enter a piano competition.”

His throat tightened and his eyes widened.

Lance narrowed his gaze at him.  
“It’s your turn now,” he added calmly.

Keith averted his eyes.  
“There’s no way I can do that.”

“Why not? You were playing fine that day.”

He really wasn’t.

“Are you still afraid?”

Yes.

“There you go again, looking down!”

He flinched at Lance’s accusing tone, and his voice softened again.

“We’re all afraid, y’know. To get up on stage.”

He knew that.

“Maybe you’ll mess up. Maybe they’ll totally reject you. But even so…”

He closed his eyes.

“You grit your teeth and get up there, anyway!”

He didn’t. He avoided it.

“Something compels us…”

He peeked up.

“ _Moves_ us, to play music.”

Huh.

“Is it like that for you, too?”

Keith finally looked up; Lance was staring at him earnestly.

_Everything you say or do…_

_It’s so…_ bright _._

_It’s too blinding…_

_And I end up closing my eyes._

He took a deep breath.

“I’m the kind of guy…” he started slowly, “who hurled his precious sheet music away, because he couldn’t stand to even _look_ at it anymore. I don’t... deserve to be a performer.”

Keith turned to face the orange sky above them.

_I played with all my might,_

_Just because I wanted my mother to get well._

_And yet…_

His lips pressed into a firm line, his eyes squeezed close.

“… Huh. There are tons of musicians in the same boat. I’m sure of that!”

Lance was speaking, but he turned his head away.

“Ones who think, ‘I’ll be darned if I do this’, or ‘Why don’t you play it?’ And yet, you pick it up again and you sit before that score.”

Something in the other’s way of speaking made him turn back slowly.

“That is…”

Lance raised a finger to his lips, and winked.

“How you create the most beautiful lie of all.”

Then he smiled in satisfaction.

Keith’s eyes widened.

“We’re still only, what? 17? So, let’s just dive right in!”

And before he could react, Lance ran off and towards the railings.

“Like this!”

With that, he shot off the bridge and Keith gasped, reaching out even though he knew he couldn’t stop his friend.

He hurried to the rails with the girls, staring down at the river below them.

Lance broke back through the surface right after his fall, spluttering and shaking his hair out of his face.

Loudly, he laughed and Keith couldn’t help but stare, his body shivering and fingers clenching the metal between them too tight.

“I’ve always wanted to try that!” Lance chuckled loudly. “It feels so good!”

Weakly, he took a step back.

_Everything you say or do…_

Lance waved up at them with a wide smile

 _It's so..._ bright.

The kids waved back, giggling.

_It’s too blinding…_

_And I end up closing my eyes._

_But…_

He stored his book away in his bag and dropped it all on the bridge.

_I can’t help but aspiring to be like you._

_That moment, when his music reached them…_

_“This thing’s life changing!”_

Next he knew, Lance was below him, and staring up at him with wide eyes.  
Gasps sounded behind him, and he was only then aware that he was flying.

_There’s no way I could ever forget that._

The sound of cheering and clapping filled his ears, and together with them he let himself drown for the first time by his own terms.

Just before the water surrounded him, he reached for his glasses; holding them close to not lose them.

It was cold and his body didn’t want to move at first…

But then it was easy to reach and break the surface.

Their little audience above was squealing in delight and joy, and he couldn’t help but laugh.

Slicking his hair out of his face, he just let it out.

“Scary stuff!” He almost giggled, water dripping down his face steadily.

Lance was staring at him dumbfounded.

Then, he joined in.

_There’s no way I could ever forget._

_Because I’m a musician…_

Together, they stayed there like that for a while, with the sky above them tinting the water orange.

_Just like you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> always remember kids, think twice about what youre saying or agreeing to, or y'all gonna end up like Keith
> 
> my voltron tumblr's [gayspaceguys](http://gayspaceguys.tumblr.com/), talk to me or tag me in stuff anytime!
> 
> I'm getting to a point where I don't know which Voltron characters to use for which oncoming roles, so if anyone would like to discuss options with me, please message me! it's kinda important lol


	6. Images

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The competition is close. Keith is struggling, but so is Pidge, and Lance is worried. Also, two more figures show up, and they can't wait to bring Keith down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1000 hits??? /throws next chapter at yo u
> 
> warnings: everyone is, like, crying at least once

_Keith was bawling his eyes out.  
His face was messy, his legs hurt, and Pidge was slowly but surely losing her patience._

_“Come on, Keith! Don’t cry over a skinned knee!” She growled. “You’re a man, aren’t you?”_

_All he did was tighten his hold around her neck and whine louder._

_She adjusted the grip on his thighs and repositioned him against her back.  
This only even worked in the first place because she was taller than him…_

_Continuing to limp forward, she tried to turn her head to look at his face, but her hair got in the way.  
“Look at me! My ankle went ‘snap’! That’s right, ‘_ snap’ _!”_

_Pidge stumbled to a halt, taking a break to just breathe for a second._

_“I-It’s your fault for m-making me do— do the—!”_

_“Oh, shut up!” She hissed, cheeks heating up._

_Sighing, she took another step._

Thank goodness he only hurt his leg…

If I'd gotten his hands hurt, his mother would’ve killed me.

_Imagining that only drove tears into her eyes, too._

_“Stop crying, dummy! You’re m-making me cry, t-too…”_

_And with that, her breath hitched and she was no better off than her friend._

_The stars above them didn’t do anything to guide them home._

* * *

 

“Here, a towel and a change of clothes. I’ll put your stuff in the dryer.”

“Thanks.”  
Lance pulled the hoodie over his head, snuggling into it.  
“Where’s your family? Won’t I bother them?”

“Don’t worry about that,” Keith called over his shoulder, hurrying into the laundry room. “My dad’s away on business a lot.”

Lance hummed thoughtfully.  
“Huh, it fits just right,” he mumbled.  
Keith apparently liked his clothes big and cuddly. Nice.

He left the towel around his neck and peeked out of the bathroom.

His host was nowhere in sight, so he went to explore the hallway.  
Most of the doors were closed only halfway, or even not at all; but there were few he wasn’t able to get a look into.

Lance guessed that one was Keith’s room, so he just pressed down the next door handle and entered; the light of the hallway illuminating the inside.

There, he stopped dead in his tracks.

Notebooks and scores lay scattered all across the floor, just like boxes with trophies and framed diplomas and pictures.

And in the middle of it, a big piano.

Layers of dust were covering it, he could see that from where he stood; and he could tell that nobody had set foot into this room since a long time.

It was oh so very sad to look at.

“There you are. Is coffee okay? I can make you some hot milk, too…”

Keith’s voice behind him trailed off as he just continued to move inside, his bare feet tapping against the parquet floor.

He walked to the piano, and reached out to just shove all the items on it out of the way.

“Wh-What the heck?!” Keith cried out.

Lance ignored him.  
Instead, he grabbed the soft towel around his neck, and used it to swipe off the dust.

He could hear Keith take a deep breath.

Moving his arm once, twice, his movements slowed and his bottom lip was quivering dangerously.  
“Sorry, okay?” He whispered shakily.  
Trying to keep the threatening tears at bay, he bent his upper body over the instrument; resting his face in the crook of his elbow.  
“I’m sorry…”

Stifling back a sob, he repeated it once more.

Then, he jumped up, determined.  
Opening the curtains and the blinds, his voice echoed off the empty walls.

“Wholesome playing starts with a wholesome environment!”

He pulled open the window.  
“First order of business – cleanup! Air this place out!”

Pidge blinked back at them.

At first, they just stared at each other.  
Lance was confused.

But then Pidge squinted and frowned with a glance behind Lance, pulling the spoon out of her mouth with a wet, judging ‘ _plop’_.

 _“Oh my God—“_ Keith behind him groaned.

Lance laughed and waved.  
“Oh, so you live next door? That’s so cool! Yo, Pidge!”

The girl didn’t answer.  
She critically scanned Lance’s appearance, though.

_"For fuck's sake, Pidge, this isn't what you think it is-"_

"Huh? What do you mean, Keith?"

With every passing second, her face became more bitter and redder, until eventually she just slammed her window shut.

The curtains followed right after.

* * *

 

Keith could feel his hands twitching as they hovered in front of the recorder.

He cringed nonstop as he listened to the audio.  
It sounded off key, played by someone with no sense of rhythm and who probably was an amateur, with no feel for the piano.

Except—

“Is— Is that me?!” Keith cried out incredulously.

“Yup! What you just played, on tape!” Lance chirped. “Your set piece is Chopin’s Étude Op. 25, No. 5,” he added helpfully, pulling out the scores behind his back and swinging them around.

Keith buried his face within his hands, leaning stiffly against the wall and sliding down until he sat.  
He breathed heavily through his nose and wanted nothing more than to escape this whole disaster.  
“The tempo and sound are so out of sync! This isn’t me!”

“He sucks, huh?”

_“Pidge, no—“_

“He does.”

“…”

His attention shifted towards the (wide open. dammit) window.  
Lance stood smugly next to it, while Hunk and Pidge leaned into the room; Pidge looking unimpressed, while Hunk seemed sheepish.

Keith banged the back of his head against the wall behind him and groaned, letting out a shuddering breath.

Competing?

Like this?

Nope.

That's it, he’s backing out.

Right.  
If he acted now, he could still—

“I’ve already sent in your submission,” Lance drawled slowly, throwing something into the air before catching it again.  
Repeating the action.

Keith freaked.

“Is that my wallet?!” He screeched.

Lance ignored him.

“So, what competition is it?”

“It’s the Altean Music Competition,” the violinist explained, holding up the scores once more.  
“A national-level contest that’s spawned many a renowned musician. If you win Nationals, you might even get the chance to perform overseas!”

“Oh, really? That’s cool!” Hunk smiled.

But Pidge frowned at Keith and pursed her lips, glancing at Lance.

“I’ve got to study under some teacher…” Said pianist muttered under his breath, eyes wide and glassy.

“C’mon, face it! This is a challenge; you’re gonna prove that you can play, even if you can’t hear the notes!”  
Lance wiggled his eyebrows as he gesticulated animatedly.

“ _It takes courage to sail in uncharted waters!”_ He hollered and Keith closed his eyes in fatigue.

“Who said that?” He whispered.

Lance smirked.  
“Snoopy!”

“… A dog?”

“ _Anyways_ – the important thing is your imagery!”  
Lance’s expression turned serious.  
“Before your fingers touch the keys, you must determine in your mind how you’re going to play it!”

Keith’s eyebrows shot up.  
“… Anton Rubinstein,” he mumbled.

“Why do you play the piano?”

Lance crossed his arms, wandering around the room.  
“Is it for your own sake? For someone else’s?”

His fingers hovered just above the piano’s keys.  
“How do you want to play this piece?”

He turned to smile down at Keith.  
“How does the real you want to play Chopin?”

Keith gaped up at him, at a loss for words.

Lance chuckled and suddenly, he was across the room with one foot through the window.  
“So, anyway, I’m counting on you!”  
Pointing at Pidge and Hunk who just stared, he added:  
“You two take it from here!”

And with that, Lance was gone.

“Oh, Pidge! Our break, our break! We gotta hurry back, too!” Hunk suddenly cried out, waving his arms wildly.

Pidge just jumped onto his back without another word.  
She turned to face Keith, and used her index and middle finger to send the ‘Watching You’ gesture towards him.

Then, they were gone too and he was left in silence.

With a sigh, he got onto his feet.

“So, it’s just you and me again, huh?” He whispered.

The piano didn’t reply.

… Would be weird if it did, though.

* * *

 

“That’s Chopin! Is that Keith playing?”

Pidge nodded silently, hugging her knees closer to her chest with a soft smile.

Her mother cooed.  
“Oh! So he started playing again? Hmm, should I maybe bring a snack over…?”

She continued on her ways, but Pidge stayed out on the porch.

The familiar sound of playing was calming.

As she buried her face within her knees, her eyes slowly slipped closed.

Her lips never straightened.

* * *

 

“What’s your mental image?”

“A horse-drawn carriage over cobblestones in Europe—“

“Unoriginal! Lack of imagination!”

Lance’s bag collided with his face.

* * *

 

“Image?”

“Sunny-side up eggs for breakfast…?”

“Mundane! Unromantic!”

Today, Lance packed more books than yesterday.

* * *

 

“Image!”

He opened his mouth, but instantly had a mouthful of fabric between his teeth.

* * *

 

The wind played with his hair as the familiar music filled his ears.

_Image…_

His hands moved along, imagined the keys right beneath them.

_Image…?_

They pushed through the air with ease in an old lost sense of calm.

_Image._

Keith kept his eyes closed, loose shoulders swaying gently.

_… What is an image, anyway?_

_Is it different than how you interpret the music?_

He stopped, forehead twitching.

_How do I want to…_

His hands lowered into his lap.

_… play this piece?_

* * *

 

Keith took a deep breath; closed his eyes, raised his hands.

Then he squinted.  
Took another one.

Eventually, he sighed and turned on his seat, facing the other direction.

He just couldn’t do this.

His eyes fell on the figure slumped against the wall next to the window and he stiffly got onto his feet, stretching his arms above his head.  
Making his way over, he slid out of his black jacket, and draped it over Lance’s body.

Lance smiled contentedly in his sleep, instantly snuggling into the soft fabric.

At that, Keith relaxed, and his lips pulled up.

_As long as he’s quiet…_

_He looks so innocent._

He moved back to his seat; sat down, and finally his fingers met the keys.

* * *

 

“How are Regionals going?”

“We’ve never been readier! The only thing I’m afraid of is injury…” Pidge sighed, shrugging. “How about you guys?”

“There was that one time I feared that there was actual smoke coming out of his ears!” Lance chuckled.  
He skipped a few steps ahead, arms crossed at the back of his head.

“… But I think Keith might be pushing himself too hard,” he then admitted quietly. “I mean, he was kind of reeling in the hallway.”

Pidge pursed her lips, eyes resting on Lance’s back.

“I _do_ want him to play the piano, I really do! But I don’t want him to suffer for it, y’know?”

Her friend stopped in his tracks out of nowhere, and she hurried to avoid walking into him.

“But right now, Keith is trying to turn that suffering into notes; exposing both his pain and his suffering, even his own struggling self… That’s how he’ll come to dwell inside his music. That’s how we play music that’s alive! He’s in the middle of doing just that. I’m sure of it.”

Pidge frowned.  
It took a few seconds for her brain to take in the meaning of his words.

“Lance… Why are you so supportive of Keith?”

“Oh, well, I guess…”  
He turned around, raising a finger to his lips like he was telling her a secret.  
“He’s like this hopeless kid brother, maybe?”

With one last grin and wave, Lance jogged off.

When he was gone, she bent her head and clutched the straps of her bag tightly within her grasp, sighing as she realized he had used her own words back at her.

“Keith isn’t hopeless at all, though,” she whispered.

The streetlights above her head flickered to life.

* * *

 

She wasn’t home yet when her phone rang.

“Yo, Pidge!”

“Hey, Rover. What’s up?”  
Pidge couldn’t help a small smile lifting the corners of her lips.

“I just finished training and was wondering what you were up to?”

“I’m on my way home now. Why?”

“Oh, I see. I am, too!”

She huffed.  
“We’re always heading home at the same time nowadays, aren’t we?”

Her steps slowed.

_We._

Rover was talking, but she couldn’t focus on his voice.

Pictures of Lance and Keith on stage together ran through her mind;  
There was no place for her in their ‘we’.

So she made a decision.

“Rov?” She cut in, interrupting his worried rant, but he immediately replied.

“Yeah?”

“Let’s go out.”

* * *

 

Keith was pacing through the music room, flicking through the scores, eyes scanning the familiar pages.

_How do I want to play this piece of music?_

He sighed and let himself slump against the wall right at his back, sliding down tiredly.

_For what reason am I playing it?_

He took off his glasses, rubbing at his eyes.  
They were starting to hurt.

“Good job!”

A bottle of water was thrust into his face, and Keith flinched.  
Slowly, he glanced up through a few strands of his dark hair that managed to pull free from his ponytail.

Lance was smiling down at him.

_... Who do I want to play it for?_

The taller boy moved to stand next to where he sat after he took the offered drink, leaning out of the open window.  
“Why don’t you pack it in for today? It’s totally dark outside already. Look at the moon! It’s so pretty!”

Keith took a sip, absently shaking his head.  
His eyes never left the sheets.

“Just a little longer.”

Then it was quiet.

At least, until Lance's voice pulled him out of his own train of thoughts.

“… Do you resent me?”

Blinking in irritation, he looked up, but Lance wasn’t facing him.

His silence must’ve been enough, though.  
“Just something Pidge said. That you’re suffering.”

The other student’s shoulders stiffened; pulled up to his neck.  
“I’ve… known that as well, I guess.”

Lance was staring down at his hands, gripping the windowsill tightly.

“I realized it when I saw your room.”

Keith wanted to speak up so badly.  
He wanted to say how _no, wrong,_ he was _fine,_ but at the same time... he just, _couldn’t_.

The words got stuck in his tightening throat, his heart hammering almost painfully against his ribs.

“Unable to hear your music, you try to abandon the piano… Even as you cling to it for support.”  
Lance’s voice was nothing more than a soft whisper.

“That’s why, as if you’re turning your back on it, you try to hide it under dust and books…”

Keith pulled his knees up to his chest, squeezing his eyes shut and resting his forehead against them.

He really didn’t want to hear it.

“You love it, but you can’t go near it...”

 _Stop_.

“You miss it, but you can’t touch it...”

Why did Lance always have to speak his thoughts?

“Even though you’re grieving… even though you’re hurting. And I…”

His grip on the scores tightened, paper rustling.

“I just pretend that I don’t see that.”

Above him, a choked out laugh.

“’Play the piano!’ ‘Work hard at it!’ Irresponsible things like that – that’s all I say… _God_ , I signed you up for a competition without your agreement…”

Was it raining again?

_Drip, dripdrip, drip, drip-_

“You’re suffering because of me…”

Next to him, Lance seemed to be shuffling around.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…”

Keith needed to say something.

 _Anything_.

“… It was you who swept away all that dust.”  
Weird.  
It felt like he was listening to somebody else talking.

Slowly, he lifted his heavy head.  
He was surprised to feel his cheeks straining with a smile.

“I look like I’m suffering, huh? That’s not good…”

A bitter chuckle rolled off his tongue.

“But of course I’d be suffering.”

Taking a deep breath, he twisted his upper body to look up.  
He laughed, but it bordered on sounding hysterical.

“I mean, I’m going to sail in uncharted waters, right?”

Lance’s blotchy, tearstained face seemed blurry to his own eyes, so he lowered his head again and put the bottle of water next to him.

“Both taking on a challenge, and creating something… It’s painful,” he whispered thinly.

Keith closed his eyes.  
Finally, his cheeks were able to relax into something more honest.

“But... it’s also fulfilling. So, thank you.”

The silence felt heavy, like the ceiling above was pressing down on them.

_My world…_

_Had already changed a long, long time ago._

_It’s just that I never realized it._

“For sweeping away the dust that collected on my body…”

He blinked.  
Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see Lance’s feet turning.

“Thank you.”

_For encountering me._

_Ever since that day, my world…_

_Even the piano…_

_Became so very colorful._

“… You suck. That was so cheesy, man.”

Keith huffed out another laugh.

_The guy that wanted to meet my best friend..._

_As if we’re hiding from the silver moon,_

_The two of us in this music room,_

_In the middle of the night…_

Lance now leaned with his back against the window, his blue eyes closed and a small smile playing around his lips.

_It’s like there’s no one in the world but us._

* * *

 

Keith wanted to throw that stupid recorder into the pits of hell where it belonged.

Wide eyed, he pulled at his hair.  
“You’re sabotaging me, I swear! This can’t be real!”

“Lame.”

Lance frowned down at where he sat.

“It’s boring. Average. Pedestrian.”

Keith whined and buried his face within his hands.

“But I can see you’ve got the set piece down!”  
Lance shoved the last piece of his bagel into his mouth, munching happily.

“Even if I can play the sheet music perfectly, it doesn’t change anything,” he muttered angrily.  
“Chopin’s whispering to me. ‘Where are you in all this?’”

He didn’t get a reply.

Loud footsteps made their way over after a while.  
“Hey, today’s Regionals, right? Let’s go cheer. For a change of scenery.”

“I’ll pass. I’ll only be the same as before if I leave it like this.”  
Keith sighed as Lance crouched down in front of him.

Determined, he pushed himself onto his feet.  
“I’m going to transcend perfection.”

_Like you._

“Nah. No can do, we’re gonna cheer! If you shut yourself in here, you’ll suffocate.”

With a wide grin, he slammed open the windows.

“Musicians need time to gaze up at the sky!”

* * *

 

“Last inning!”

“Tighten up the defense in the hole!”

“Don’t let anything get through!”

Pidge pursed her lips in concentration, swinging the bat a few times.

“We’re counting on you, Pidge! If we don’t at least tie up…”

“I know,” she cut in and moved to stand in position.

Her eyes wandered over the field, and she gasped.

Keith was leaning against the fence.  
When he noticed her watching him, he blinked and nodded encouragingly, smiling at her.

She could feel her face brighten and lips involuntarily rising, too.

Then she froze.

Lance jogged over to her friend, running a hand through his hair.  
He said something, and Keith rolled his eyes in response.

Pidge could see from where she stood how relaxed Keith appeared, and how they were acting so playfully around each other.

The only thing she could hear was the blood rushing through her ears.

“Play ball!”

_“A famous violinist once said…”_

_Lance was sitting calmly next to her, smiling softly._

_“’Music transcends words.’”_

Her eyes narrowed, and she pulled back.  
With a striking sound the bat cut through the air, to hit—

“Strike!”

Nothing.

Behind her, her teammates gasped.

_“By exchanging notes, you get to know one another; to understand one another.”_

“Tsk.”  
Frustrated, she raised the tool once more.

The palms of her hands were slippery.

This time, her fingers only twitched when the ball shot past her reach.

“Ball!”

“Pidge!”

_“As if your souls were connected, and your hearts were overlapping.”_

One last time.

She cried out and swung.

“ _It’s a conversation through instruments; a miracle that creates harmony…”_

Her eyes widened.

_“And in that moment, music transcends words.”_

Finally, they collided.

* * *

 

_“Don’t you think that’s awful? Making a girl carry him on her shoulders!”_  
_Pidge was ranting, and she knew that._  
_Burger in one hand, cola in the other, she angrily took a sip._

_Rover chuckled._  
_“Well, girls are often bigger during childhood.”_

_“That’s not the point and probably not even true!” She huffed._

_Her expression softened._  
_“But even though he’s normally hopeless, he’s amazing when he plays the piano. The other day, he got a standing ovation…”_

_The boy opposite her burst out laughing and she frowned irritated._

_“What? Did I say something funny?”_

_Rover shook his head, smiling sadly._  
_“It’s just always the same. You’re always going on and on about Kogane.”_

* * *

 

The ball was flying, and she was running.

People were cheering.  
She was convinced that Lance was the loudest.

_I don’t like this_

_I don’t like this_

_I don’t like this_

Yeah, sure.

_I have no right to feel this way._

Pidge skidded across the first base, not slowing down.

_But I still don’t like this._

_We were always together…_

_I was always by his side…_

_During times of joy,_

_And of grief as well._

_But…_

By the second base, she was panting.  
Her name was being called by so many different voices, it was almost overwhelming.

_I realize that he’s far away from me now…_

_I’m not by his side anymore._

_There’s somebody else there…_

Her feet reached the third base.

She continued running.

“What the heck?!”

“Pidge, no! Stop!”

_I don’t like this._

_Look at me!_

_Look at me, will you?_

In front of her, the catcher stretched out his hand with a victorious smile, and she let herself fall.

_Not with those eyes…_

_Don’t look at someone else!_

Her lower body skidded across the hard surface; something in her right leg snapped, and she flinched at the stinging pain coursing through it.

Dust whirled up, making her throat itch and cough, blinking it out of her eyes.

When people gasped, she raised her head to see.

Her foot rested just an inch in front of her goal.

The catcher stared at the ball in his grasp, before glancing at her wide eyed.

Pidge felt her body burn and ache in shame and pain.

“Out!”

But her heart was void.

“Ballgame!”

* * *

 

“Oh, Pidge! I’m taking the long way home.”

She glanced up with a frown.  
“Huh? We live this way, Matt.”

He shrugged, grinning.  
“Duh. Just, let your boyfriend console you.”  
Waving, he jogged off into the ally to their right, and Pidge was left in confusion.

“Boyfriend?” She repeated.

Pidge turned around.  
Die her brother see Rover?

She could feel her eyes widen as another figure stepped into the light of the streetlamp.

His eyebrows rose, too.  
“Oh. Hey.”

“Keith?”

Pidge’s eyes flickered towards the grocery bag in his right hand.

He didn’t answer.  
Instead, he walked up to her, until their bodies almost touched and she had to look up at him.

The dark haired boy really wasn’t that much taller, though.

Looking down, he raised his left foot, and she opened her mouth.

But then he kicked her gently.

Pidge howled.

* * *

 

“Keith, this is embarrassing!”

Over his shoulder, she glanced down at her naked feet with a frown.  
Keith had insisted to go back to the grocery store, to get a few ice packs.  
They got wrapped around her swollen foot and next she knew, she was being lifted onto a slim back, with a light paper bag of groceries and another one holding her sneakers in it, forced into her hand.

“Well, no one’s looking. Suck it up.”

“But nobody else was onto me!”

“Yeah, and how long have we known each other?”

She didn’t know how to answer that.

(Since before kindergarten.)

“Where’s Lance?” She asked instead.

“Home. He said, ‘Go to Pidge by yourself, dumbass’.”  
He huffed, and Pidge could feel his back move beneath hers.  
His body was cool against her chest, even though he wore a jacket and had her weight to carry.

“After that roll down the hill, you carried me like this, even though you were hurt,” he spoke up again quietly. “And then your own ankle swelled up like a ball, too.”

She blinked.  
How did he remember that?

Keith bent his head, and Pidge just barely caught the small smile on his chapped lips.  
“You haven’t changed at all since we were kids,” he whispered softly.

“Oh, I’ve changed plenty,” she muttered.

He either didn’t hear, or just didn’t reply.

She pursed her lips.  
Her heart was fluttering.

“Nice try. But I know everything about you.”

Whoops.  
So he heard.

“That means you never have to hold back with me. All right?”

Pidge blinked at the abrupt change in his voice.  
It sounded almost sad.

Keith suddenly stopped.

She tried to peek at his face again, but his hair was in the way.

“I’ve always made you worry so much about me…” He continued. “I just wish you’d let _me_ worry about _you_ for once in a while.”

A soft chuckle.  
“I might be a flaky kid brother, but I’m gonna try hard, okay?” He mumbled.

Her hand grasped his shoulder and the bags tighter.

“I’m gonna try hard, so… I want the happy Pidge to watch me.”

Keith adjusted his hold on her knees, and she tried not to shift too much.  
She noticed how thin but strong his fingers were.

Probably just like the rest of his body.

That poor boy looked so skinny, it was almost scary sometimes.  
Yet, he carried her with ease.

“Y’know, it would be too lame to ride on your shoulders forever. Still, I gotta say…”

He finally glanced up.

She reached out to tug up his glasses, and he smiled.

“You’re lighter than you look.”

Pidge could feel her cheeks flame up.

 _“What the fuck?_ What is _that_ supposed to mean? Fucking _rude—“_

She banged her fists onto his shoulders and tried to kick him with her good leg, but all she did was make him laugh warmly.

“Sorry, sorry! Don’t worry, you’re fine.”

Slowly, his feet set into motion again.

Keith laid his head back, staring up at the starry sky.

His soft hair tickled her face.  
He couldn’t have washed it too long ago; it still smelled fresh and familiar of cinnamon.

“The seasons… might be about to change…”

It was so quiet, she wasn’t sure it was made for her ears to hear, so she stayed silent.

_Who cares about music…?_

_Who cares about words...?_

_We have the long, long time that we’ve spent together…_

A younger Keith’s sobs filled her ears, and she could almost feel his barely noticeable weight against her back.

_… and we have so many tiny, precious memories._

She allowed herself to lean against her friend, the hand she had on his shoulder until now slowly made its way halfway around his neck.  
Resting there loosely, she could feel his calm pulse vibrate against her skin.

_Her vision was blurry, but the tears had stopped a while ago.  
Keith was jiggling on her back and it was annoying, but she didn’t have the heart to tell him off._

_He just finally stopped crying, too, so she didn’t want to set him off again by yelling at him._

_But then suddenly, he laughed, and she stumbled to a halt to turn her head._

_Hiccups filled her ears, but the boy on her back was smiling, too.  
His face was all red and blotchy; snot and tears stained his face alike, but she couldn’t turn away now._

_“N-Next time, I’ll give y-you a piggyback r-ride, too, o-okay?”_

Pidge’s eyes widened.

Oh.

Her lower lip wobbled dangerously and her vision blurred.  
Before she could stop it, she was shaking and her hand clasped at the front of Keith’s shirt.

“W-We _lost_! We f-fucking _lost_ , be-because of _m-me_ …”

Keith didn’t say a thing.

“A-After we all fought s-so hard! I’m so bitter, s-so bitter!”

She buried her face within his cold neck, unable to stop the waterfall of tears.

“My ankle’s killing… _killing_ me! We lost t-the game…”

_Even though I’m bitter over losing, even though I’m kind of sad…_

_Even though my ankle hurts, and my eyes are wet with tears…_

_Even though I’ve never felt worse…_

_I wonder why the stars are sparkling like this._

Keith just kept walking, one step at a time.

_The scent of the music room in his clothes…_

_I can hear his now slightly ragged breathing._

_His shoulder, wet with tears, suddenly feels warm…_

She closed her eyes tightly when Keith gently squeezed her knees in reassurance.

_I am… by his side._

Pidge wished time could just stand still.

* * *

 

“Good morning. This is the list of Altean contestants… Check out the flagged name; it’ll get you fired up!”

The booklet crumpled slightly between his fingers as his eyes flew over the marked words.

He looked up at his advertiser with a playful smirk.

“Ho ho ho! I sure am now. I have been waiting for years for this opportunity!”

Running a hand through his ginger hair, he stood up.  
He pressed the papers against the other man’s chest, striding past him with purposeful steps.

It was finally time to get his revenge for all those years of humiliation.

* * *

 

“Huh. I see you already know.”

She smiled; her fingers kept jumping over the keys in excitement.

“Oh? About what?”

Her father chuckled.  
“No use playing dumb, my child. You sound so animated.”

“You are imagining things, father.”

She could feel him rolling his eyes at her, but she didn’t turn to see for herself.

The sound of the piano filled her ears; bounced off the walls around her, made her shift on her seat in anticipation.

_I have been wondering what you were up to, and now you finally show up again._

A smirk played around her lips as she bent her head to let her long, white hair fall into her face.

_Just you wait…_

She would wipe the floor with him this time.

_… Keith Kogane!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rip in fucking pieces i cannot believ e
> 
> guys, guys, guys, before you come at me with forks and torches, hear me out alright
> 
> .. actually, let's wait until next chapter  
> i mean it's probably obvious who those two babes are but husshhh
> 
> i'll clear it all up next time dw
> 
> (hmu on my tumblr, gayspaceguys)  
> (will i link it later? maybe)  
> (im tired)


	7. Red

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith used to have a cat. Both of his best friends lost their games, so he has to try his best to win the competition. Too bad that a long forgotten rival duo shows up, and they're ready to just. not let him do that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (read the end notes, please!)
> 
> have this chapter early, because I'm working this weekend, but I barely slept this whole week soo i'm like. dead
> 
> maybe look at the tags again to prepare for this chapter idk (nothing too bad happens though i think but just in case)  
> btw, please tell me if i need to tag stuff i didn't yet and you feel would be appropriate to do so!! whatever it might be just let me know

The swing squeaked beneath his weight.

Back and forth,

Back and forth.

“Hey.”

Keith blinked.

“How’s it going?”

Slowly, he looked up from where he stared at his feet until just now.

Bilious green eyes stared him down from below.

“It’s coming up, huh? The competition.”

His eyes widened, forehead creasing.

“Don’t get spooked!”

Keith turned his head away.

“Don’t worry about it… Don’t worry about it!”

On light paws, the black cat stepped in front of him; never taking its eyes off of his face.

“So what if you get humiliated, or if they all laugh at you?”

He frowned.

“It’s not like they’re going to abandon you.”

Clasping his hands together, he tightened his grip, until his nails almost drew blood.

The cat narrowed its eyes, red patch of fur around its nose twitching along with its nose.

“After all, you’re not Beethoven.”

Keith winced, but he couldn’t find his voice to argue.

“And of course, you’re not Chopin, either.”

“I know that!” He finally rasped out.

The little animal cocked its head.  
“Oh? Well, then…”

It stepped closer, and Keith couldn’t help but back off.  
His feet shuffled in the sandy surface beneath him, until the swing was so far back up he leaned into the seat while standing straight.

He felt cornered.

“Who are you?”

Keith woke with a gasp and drenched in cold sweat that night.

* * *

 

“Go for it, Hunk!”

“Cover him!”

Keith watched silently, but his eyes were wide and his hands balled into fists anxiously.

Hunk was dribbling around their enemies, the ball always right at his feet.

Soon he would be close enough to risk a shot—

And he pulled his right leg back just to let it snap forward in full swing again.

The ball flew through the air and everyone watched it.  
Eyes flying from side to side, the goalkeeper moved into the wrong direction and Lance next to him cheered, Pidge on his back hollering victoriously.

But then it clonked against the crossbar, and the shrill blow of a whistle cut through the air.

They watched Hunk’s heaving back for a second as cheers erupted from all around the field.  
Then, he turned around, and looked right at them.

His eyes were wide, cheeks a deep red and glistening with sweat from exertion.  
When he noticed them, his lips pursed into a thin line and he bent his head.

“Oh no,” Lance whispered and Pidge cursed under her breath.

“I can’t believe Hunk ended up losing, too,” she muttered.

Hunk went to comfort a teammate, rubbing his back while trying to cheer him up.

“Hey, don’t cry. We gave it our best shot, didn’t we? Come on, we gotta go shake hands,” his voice carried over to them, and together they slowly walked across the field.

“Hunk!” Keith called.  
He didn’t plan for what to do next, though, so when Hunk actually turned around with big eyes, he just stared back.

So the other boy just smiled in anticipation.

“Thanks for coming to root for us,” he replied earnestly.

“You… were really cool,” Keith eventually managed to get out, and Hunk winked at him.

“Well, I missed my chance at becoming a star. So the rest is up to you!”  
He gave them a small wave, and then he and his comrade moved to the middle of the field.

Keith blinked at his retreating form.

The always present weight on his shoulders just seemed to get heavier.

* * *

 

Hunk sighed, tiredly leaning against the stall door.

“So I’ll have to wait until college to become a star, huh?” He mumbled.

His hands started to tremble at his sides, and he grabbed the fabric of his shorts with his fingers, holding on tight.

“Dammit,” he hissed, but his vision was suddenly fuzzy and his voice thickened.

“Dammit! _Dammit_! No way am I gonna lose next time, all right?!” He hiccupped, squeezing his eyes shut to try and hold back the tears.

Hunk raised one of his arms, rubbing his sleeve over his eyes, but it only made matters worse.

His legs were shaking, too, and he found himself slowly sinking down against the door.  
He pulled his knees close to his body; hugging them tightly.

Burying his face within them, the muffled sound of his sobs were the only thing echoing off the empty bathroom walls.

* * *

 

_Hunk and Pidge…_

_Their last tournaments have ended._

  
Keith’s chest moved unsteadily as his fingers jumped over the keys.

He frowned in irritation.

_  
And I’m at a point where I can play my selection by heart._

_But…_

  
The clonking sound boomed through his brain.

Slowly, his fingers jerked to a stop, reaching up to grab his hair.

_  
That wouldn’t be enough, would it?_

  
He didn’t take his eyes off the scores for one second.

A teacher even called him out, because he kept drumming the melody on the desk.

He really, really had that part down.

But yeah, no.

It wouldn't be enough.

* * *

 

“Three more laps!”

Keith almost collapsed when his foggy brain finally took in the yelled line.

But he couldn’t slack off now.

Sweat ran into his eyes, and he blinked.  
He was wheezing, more stumbling than anything else at this point, almost faceplanting into the track roads a few too many times.

_  
Hunk and Pidge both sparkled…_

_Just like Lance._

  
His vision was blurrier than usual, which had him lowkey worried.

_  
He was there, and just so… commanding._

  
Their instructor yelled something else, but this time he couldn’t even catch it.  
His eyes were fixated on the swaying ground beneath his feet.

 _  
Do_ I _have a deep understanding of Chopin?_

_Have I… made him my own?_

_Somewhere in this music that follows these notes…_

_Do I exist?_

  
A green gaze flared at him like a strike of lightning.

_  
“Where are you in all this?”_

  
Keith’s eyes widened.

Finally, finally, his feet wouldn’t lift high enough anymore, and suddenly the floor was right there.

His right shoulder hit it first and straight on, dark spots exploding like fireworks in front of his eyes.  
Sand particles had him coughing violently, but his vision was fading worryingly fast.

“Keith!”

“Shit, is he okay?”

Weakly, he tried to curl his body in on itself, but he didn’t think he really succeeded.

Unfamiliar sweaty hands were all over _him_ , his _clothes_ , his _skin_ , trying to turn him onto his back and find out what was wrong, but he just wanted them all to go away and leave him where he was.

_  
I… don’t know…_

  
“Somebody get him some water!”

Everything hurt, his limbs felt weak.

“I’ll look for the nurse!”

_  
I don’t know._

  
Darkness swallowed him whole with one long, last sigh of relief.

* * *

 

Lance didn’t think he ever ran this fast ever before in his whole life. Ever.

Period.

His breath was coming out in short, wheezing gasps, as he hurried through the mostly empty hallways.

The few people who saw him, students and teachers alike, only watched him with raised eyebrows and disapproving frowns.

But all that mattered was him rounding a final corner; skidding to a slower pace and barging through a simple set of doors.

“Friend A!” He cried out.

“… ‘es?” Came the muffled reply.

Lance froze.

Keith sat cross legged on a bed, blinking at him in surprise while munching slowly on a sandwich.  
When nothing else happened, he cocked his head in question.

His face was pale and there were dark purple circles beneath his almost equally as purple eyes, his movements seeming a little stiff and sluggish still.

Lance could feel his eyelids twitch.

_“Just ’yes’?!”_

* * *

 

“I don’t believe you!”

All he got was a slurping sound for an answer.

Lance crossed his arms, almost stomping ahead.  
“Skipping meals… Passing out! Your body is an important asset, y’know!”

“What was I supposed to do…? I was totally immersed, I’m telling you…”  
Another slurp.  
“I feel better after I ate the egg sandwiches Pidge brought me...”

Lance pursed his lips.

“… all five of them.”

He spluttered as he stopped and whirled around on the spot.  
“Five?!”

Keith graciously walked around him, and Lance’s eyes fell on the strawberry milk within his one hand; familiar scores within the other.

He could feel his expression soften when he realized just how absorbed the pianist seemed.

But then Keith glanced up, blinked, and his steps slowed down until they just were rooted to the ground where he stood.

Lance followed his eyes and his face lit up.

“Ohh, kitty!”  
He just dropped his bag and ran along the sidewalk, smiling when the black cat brushed around his legs as soon as he crouched down.

Striking, light green eyes peeked up at him, before just snapping past his knees.

Lance frowned and turned his head when he heard Keith gasp behind him.

The other boy’s face drained of all the little color it had previously gained back, leaving him as pale as snow; his eyes were blown wide and full of horror.

His own back straightened, lips parting, ready to bolt and help, when Keith’s trembling hand apparently couldn’t hold the drink anymore.  
It clattered onto the sidewalk with a quiet thud, leftovers spilling out into a rosy puddle.

Lance shot back to his side as Keith’s knees hit the hard surface below them, hands clasping over his mouth and stomach, ugly retching noises cutting through the air.

He reached out in a slight panic, grabbing his shoulder and elbow.

The pianist flinched jerkily beneath his palms, even trying to pull away, but Lance didn’t budge.  
“I-I’m sorry, you might fall over and hurt yourself, so please deal with me, just for now, alright? Hey, are you still with me? C’mon, breathe, slow and steady, in through your nose and out through your mouth, that's it. _God_ , I knew it, this was a bad idea… _fuck_ …”

 _Rambling_ , he was _rambling_ and he _knew_ it, but he couldn’t stop himself.

“Can you walk? C’mon, there’s a park over there, let’s get you settled there, okay?”

Eventually, Lance ended up almost carrying him, as Keith tried not to throw up right in front of their feet.

What a wild day.

* * *

 

The cool breeze gave him goosebumps, but kept him calm at the same time.

Keith took a deep breath, overly aware of Lance sitting on the bench next to him; eyeing him warily.

Well, he couldn’t blame him.

But he was really grateful that Lance tried to give him space now, so he guessed that the least he could do was explain himself.

His stomach had finally settled back down again, and he didn’t feel like fainting any time soon, which he took as a good sign.

“When... When I was a kid…”

Keith cleared his throat, taking another sip of the water bottle Lance handed him after they arrived, before shutting the cap and putting it beside him.

“Back then… I had a black cat, with this red spot of fur around her nose, and those brilliant green eyes. Really, I’ve never seen anything like them before…”  
He huffed out a blank laugh.

“I already told you this, I guess, but I named her Red. Because, well… yeah.”

Taking a deep breath, he tried to collect his thoughts.

“She would eat my candy whenever I wasn’t looking… And I fooled around with her a lot. I guess I was over-attentive…”

A frown tugged at his face, and he could feel Lance’s eyes burning into his right cheek.

“One day, she scratched my hand pretty badly…”

He thought he saw Lance perking up, eyes glowing with realization.

Keith laughed.

“It was was bright red; the blood was flowing out like a waterfall, and it wouldn’t stop! I kind of panicked, I guess.”

His face hurt from all the feelings he tried to push back into the mess that was his mind.

“So the next day, my mother took her somewhere and just abandoned her…”

_  
"I’m doing this for you, Keith.”_

_Empty wrappings littered the floor of his bedroom, her tiny shadow still smugly looming over them._

  
Absently, his fingers massaged the palm of his right hand, and he stared at the thin, barely visible silver linings adorning the skin; just reaching up to the knuckle of his thumb.

“The scars Red left me, remind me of my mother, too…”

Beside him, Lance’s clothes rustled against the wooden bench.

“Who knew one of my few memories I have of her, would be something like this?”  
Again, he couldn’t help but laugh, even though it sounded more like a sob this time.

_  
Red was watching him calmly over his mother’s shoulder, eyes looking too old and knowing for her tender frame and age._

_Keith clutched the hem of his shirt, bowing his head, biting down on his lips._

_The band aid on the side of his hand itched and stretched too tight across his skin._

  
“I just watched without a word, as she took Red away…”

He was freezing.

He also couldn’t care less.

“Maybe if I’d said something… Like ‘Stop it!’, or just ‘Wait a minute!’… Maybe things might have been different, y’know?”

His legs tensed, shuffling up and closer until they rested only on his toes; his hands gripped his upper arms tightly, nails burying painfully into the thin skin.

Reluctantly, his upper body slowly bent until his spine ached.

Lance next to him sat up straighter.

“I just… It just feels like, ever since that day, I’m… stuck in my mother’s shadow, see? I… I don’t know. I don’t know, Lance.”

Silence.

Then—

“You like egg sandwiches.”

Keith perked up, glancing through the slim gaps between his bangs.

“You also like strawberry milk. Unexpectedly, you apparently have a sweet tooth, too…”

He blinked.

“You’re no match for Pidge, and you’re a little bit jealous of Hunk…”

He almost choked on his own spit.  
What the _heck_?

“You’re not stuck there at all! You’re _you_. And, ‘to be like you’… it’s not so ambiguous as that.”  
Lance was swinging his legs back and forth, sitting on his hands.

“No matter what you do, no matter how you change… It doesn’t mean a thing, y’know?”

Keith took a deep breath.

“You’re just you, no matter what.”

He looked up when Lance suddenly jumped to his feet, punching a fist into the empty air.

“You weren’t born in Europe, and you don’t have a weird haircut! I mean, it might be kind of expired since, like, the 80s, but I guess it could be worse and _anyways—_ "

The violinist whirled around to face him with a smile.

“You’re not Chopin, after all. Just, play with sincerity! Give the performance of your life, with everything you’ve got!”

His eyes widened.  
“You really have a way with words sometimes,” he mumbled kind of overwhelmed, cheeks heating up in a sheepish blush.

Lance kicked his shin.  
“ _Sometimes?_ Excuse you! I’m encouraging you here, and it looks like I’m doing my job just fine, so thank you very much!”

He hissed, pulling his feet up onto the bench and his knees close to his chest to escape his companion.

Lance huffed and crossed his arms, pointedly raising an eyebrow.

Keith felt cornered, so he turned his face to look at his hands in his lap, stretching his right one out and flexing it carefully.

_With sincerity…_

Another set of fingertips brushed against his.

His head snapped up when Lance continued to push Keith’s fingers up with his own, until they rested palm to palm against each other, all the while wearing a gentle smile.

The other was crouching low in front of him so their eyes met head on.

“’When you’re depressed, it always helps to lean your head on your arms. Arms like to feel useful’!”

Moving up from his sweaty palm pressed against Lance’s warm, slightly calloused one, his eyes scanned Lance’s face.  
“Who said that?” He asked quietly.

“Charlie Brown.”  
Lance’s face softened, smile almost turning sad.  
“Your hands are so big and strong. They’re truly the hands of a pianist, see?”

With that, he suddenly stood to his full height, but left his hand where it was.

A grin spread across his lips.  
“Just as I thought! Look, your hands are so relaxed right now. They seem kind of happy, don’t they?”

Keith’s eyes widened, and he tried to pull back for real this time in embarrassment.  
But Lance’s fingers entwined themselves with his own, holding on with a firm grip.

“They must be itching to play the piano! So why won’t you?”

Unable to do anything but gape in awe, his eyes flickered towards their hands in front of his face.

For once, it wasn’t trembling; probingly, he squeezed gently, and Lance pressed back with a soft smile he could already hear in the amused laugh.

Almost reluctantly, his lips perked up, too.

_  
After struggling, losing my way, and suffering…_

_The answer I arrived at was so laughably simple._

  
He lifted his free hand to press its back against his eyes.

Something got into them.

Really, that was all there was to it.

* * *

 

Green eyes opened within the dark, warmly glowing up at him.

“Hey there. How’s it going?”

Keith smiled, crouching down before he tilted his head.  
“So-so, I guess.”

Red wandered around in front of him, until she finally sat down to look up at him with a calm, wise look; her slender tail resting on her small paws.

“The competition’s tomorrow, isn't it? You still can’t hear the piano, right?”

His frown and pursed lips were answer enough.

“Will you be okay, Keith?”

“I… don’t know,” he replied honestly, pulling up his shoulders.  
Still, he couldn’t help but smile.  
“But, see, there’s this boy, and he seriously believes in the power of music, y’know? Really, like. Crazily so. So, I think I’ll try believing in it, too.”

Red narrowed her eyes.

“That’s not really an answer.”

Keith huffed, forehead creasing.  
“I guess not, huh.”

His long lost friend only stared at him for a while.  
Then, her green eyes disappeared behind darkness, accompanied by a pleased purr.

“You seem to be ready. And I’m sure, that person will come, too.”

All he could see was slim, glowing slits peeking up at him as she bent her head.  
“You should take it easy today; tomorrow’s going to be a big day for you…”

Keith smiled carefully.  
“I will, thank you. And, hey? I’m sorry.”

Almost amused, the purring intensified while she closed her eyes.  
“Take good care, Keith. And, good luck. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry, too... Bye-bye.”

When he blinked into the darkness of his room and at the gloved hands in front of his face this time, he felt surprisingly at ease.

With a small smile, he curled himself up tighter and fell into a peaceful, dreamless sleep.

* * *

 

“Woah!”

“Are you serious? This is the place?”

“It sure is big,” Keith muttered, shrugging helplessly when Pidge and Hunk gave him a matching set of incredulous looks.

In front of them was a huge building, made entirely out of glass.  
The stairs leading up to the main entrance were of a blinding white and shone brightly in the sun’s rays.

“Well, I’ll be going, then,” he stated quietly, turning towards the back entrance that would get him right to where he and the other musicians needed to be, waving over his shoulder.  
His other hand clutched the strap of his messenger bag tightly, knuckles already aching painfully.

“Uhm, is he going the right way…?”

“I guess? I hope he knows what he’s doing…”

Lance yelped behind him, loudly.  
The violinist had his nose buried within the program booklet and was now racing after him.

“Keith, Keith!”

Out of nowhere, he appeared in front of his face, and Keith stumbled a few steps back.

He felt uneasy already, no need to fuel the fire already churning at his guts like that!

“Look at this, look at this!”  
Lance almost pushed the booklet into his face.

Keith squinted at the pages, trying to get his stormy brain to focus on reading for just a second.  
“The… list of contestants…?”

“Your entry number!”  
Lance pointed at something right on top of the second page.  
“Köchel number 265; Mozart’s ‘Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star’!”

Still slightly panting, he grinned.  
“The stars will shine above your head today!”

Keith paused.

Finally, the words made it past his ears, and a low chuckle escaped his lips.  
He raised a hand to hide it, but his cheeks already flushed as he tried to suppress a smile.

“Sure, sure! Thanks, Lance.”

With that, he waved once more, and finally turned his back on his friends.

Otherwise he’d probably turn on the spot and escape this whole mess.

* * *

 

_Stars in broad daylight…_

The wide, open room was surprisingly empty.  
Only few other participants were hanging around and quietly talking to each other, not even glancing into his direction when he entered.

As he climbed the stairs, though, a set of voices reached his ears; one male, the other female.

“Hey, is that…?”

“Yeah.”

Keith shyly glanced up with a gulp, trying to let his hair fall into his face.

Two young adults stood on top of the final flight, staring him down with fierce and blazing eyes.

The girl who spoke first, had her dark skinned arms entwined across her own chest, her sky blue eyes frowning down at him.

Her partner was slightly taller, with slicked back ginger hair and a fiery, dark gaze.

Huh.

Seemed like his own personal competition started already.

* * *

 

_“Look, mommy!”_

_“There it is! I found my name!”_

_“Oh, how about your son, Karen?”_

_“Ah, he didn’t qualify again! I’m bitter, but he was outstanding, really.”_

_“Hey, you see that…?”_

_“Ah, yeah. Allura Griffin and Coran Bonham once again were head and shoulders above the rest…”_

_“The sheer amount of practice they’ve put in is obvious.”_

_“This is the fruit of their lessons!”_

_“But it just makes it all the more disappointing...  
Because it makes Kogane look that much better.”_

_“So they served as his foils yet again, right…?”_

_Coran huffed, crossing his arms and swinging his legs back and forth with a pout.  
“I am really angry right now! How _ dare _he?!”_

_“Huh, because we lost to him again?” Allura sighed, biting down on her ice cream.  
Her two pigtails whipped along with her head as she moved._

_“No way!” Her friend denied, eyes wide. “I am just setting the stage to win the final! It's just..._ unfair _!"_

_Allura frowned at his irritated rant._

_“He went home without even looking at the results, as if he just assumed that he won! Would it be so hard to at least_ try _and look excited about it?”_

_The dark skinned girl sighed.  
“He is not interested. Not in other people, and especially not in us.”_

_Probably not even in himself, either._

_“You sure are cool about it, Allura…”_

_Her eyes narrowed._

_Cool?_

_Never before has she ever been more humiliated!_

_“If he has no interest in us, I will force him with all my might to look our way soon enough. Don’t you worry. Someday, I swear, I will make him care!”_

* * *

 

Allura pursed her lips.

Keith Kogane stood just below them, uncertainly peering up at them through his long, black hair falling into his face.

Well, he looked a little more grown up, but otherwise hasn’t changed much from what she could tell.

Even those annoying black rimmed glasses were the same…

Slowly, hesitantly, Keith continued on his way towards them.  
Just before he passed them, he bent his head and glanced off towards the side uncomfortably.

“Hey!”

She froze along with their rival as Coran took a deep breath and called out to him.

“Uhm, h-hey! Long time no see, huh?”

Keith peeked up again, his knuckles shining white through his skin as they gripped the strap of his bag tighter.  
Wide eyed, his gaze flickered between them.

“… Right, Kogane?” Coran prompted pointedly, both of his eyebrows shooting off his forehead in irritation.

The dark haired boy gaped at them, apparently looking for words; he looked like he wanted nothing more than turn on the spot and just run away from them, probably while screaming all the way down.

“Uh…” He eventually pressed out, breathing heavily and swallowing once.

Nervously, he raised a hand to his face, to twirl a few strands of hair around his fingers.

“Who… are you again?”

* * *

 

“Not a lot of people here, huh?”

“On the contrary! For a preliminary round, this is a pretty big turnout,” Lance threw in, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the back of a seat in front of them, observing their surroundings with alert eyes.

Hunk sat down next to them with a slight frown.  
“In the restroom just now, all everybody could talk about was Keith! He’s a really big deal, isn’t he?”

With a proud smirk, Pidge nodded.

Hunk shrugged and leaned in closer to them, lowering his voice.  
“But listen, this vibe I’m getting is kinda weird…”

  
“Is he going to show off his mind-blowing technique again?”  
_“Exactly as the score’s written, totally under his mother’s thumb… the secret marionette playing method!”_  
_Scornful laughter echoed off the white tiled walls._

  
He pouted.  
“Do people hate Keith or something?”

Pidge pursed her lips, but it was Lance who answered glumly.

“To follow the score, and to play exactly as the composer intended… That’s an incredible feat, y’know.”  
He sighed, running a hand through his hair; suddenly seeming tired.  
“In a competition, they can only judge you for that, but he can actually win just by being faithful to the score.”

The violinist turned his head to look at them, smiling sadly.  
“He can actually raise the bar, and that’s what doesn’t sit well with people. Especially the younger generation, who seek out something from music… But needless to say, there’s jealousy, too!”  
It was his turn to frown.  
“I mean, Keith _did_ storm his way through all those competitions…”

“Ah, hey!” Pidge exclaimed, earning dirty looks from people around them. She lowered her voice with a roll of her eyes.  
“There was a time when he entered a lot of them…”

Yeah. Around the time his mother was hospitalized.

Lance nodded.  
“Like a digital watch, never off by even a split second… Nothing resonates.”  
He counted off his fingers.  
“The human metronome, they called him. Made of concrete. His mother’s puppet…”

Lance clenched his hand into a fist.

“… a slave to the score.”

* * *

 

“I cannot believe that he has forgotten us!” Coran cried out, stomping his feet childishly.

“Now, now, please calm down…” Allura tried soothingly and lifted her hands. “Do not lose your head, Coran. You start early, right? Go get changed.”

She turned her head thoughtfully.

It’s not like he forgot them…  
He just never knew them from the start.

  
 _He’s exactly the same as he was years ago…_  
_I don’t like him._  
_Just because his mother was a famous instructor’s student, he got all that special treatment…_  
_But for someone with all those skills, he never plays anything but boring music!_

  
Another voice echoed through the room and they all looked up.

_“Judging will now commence.”_

It was time.

* * *

 

“The first time I met him was in third grade…”

Allura’s eyes flickered from the girl on the screen, just sitting down on the piano seat, to Coran next to her.  
He was probingly flexing his fingers.

“’Next time, for sure… Next time, for sure’…”  
Her friend huffed.  
“And just when I thought I had him, when I thought I could finally reach him… Like a mirage, he faded into the distance and disappeared. But finally, today he returned to where he belongs.”

She watched him smile thinly, turning back to watch the live stream.  
“I, too, have been waiting…” Allura mumbled quietly.

And with that, the pianist’s hands sank down, letting the first notes cut through the air.

* * *

 

People around him were praying.

They were cowering and mumbling incoherent things under their breaths, or drumming their fingers against walls, their scores, their bodies, _anywhere_ ; just like he did all the time.

Except now.

Now he sat huddled with his back pressed into a corner, trying to make himself seem as small as possible.

Somebody came to call for Number 3, and he pressed his face into his legs, trying to tune out the voices.

Too bad it only worked when he didn’t need it.

* * *

 

Coran panted, clutching the sink like a lifeline.

Wide eyed, he stared at his ghostly reflection in the mirror; watching as the sweat dripped off his chin, mixing with the running tap water.

_  
It is going to be all right._

_You can do it._

_You can play it!_

  
His fingers curled into aching fists and he closed his eyes, trying to let the sound of splashing water calm him down.

It didn’t really work.

* * *

Keith desperately squeezed his eyes closed.

Despite the darkness, everything seemed to be twisting and turning, and his chest continued to heave; longing for the oxygen it didn’t get.  
He should change into his suit.

Should he really?

He didn’t want to.

It'd mean that he’d have to get up, which in turn meant that he’d have to accept that he would have to go up on stage soon, and he wasn’t ready.

This was a bad idea all along.

His fingers dug into his arms and legs painfully, keeping him grounded.

  
_It’s…_  
 _so weird._

  
_Is it because..._   
_it’s been such a long time…?_

  
His mind was jumbled and in pieces.

_  
It’s never been this bad before..._

  
The tips of his fingers along with his cheeks were starting to tingle uncomfortably, and his breathing sped up even further.

Shit, this was _bad_ —

His heart was pounding like crazy, like a broken see-saw.

_  
“It’s over.”_

_“Why isn’t he playing?”_

_“Did he forget how to?”_

_“That’s one less competitor…”_

_His mother mouthed words he long since tried to repress._

 

Keith could feel his whole frame shivering.

He was cold and alone all over again.

_I’m scared I’m scaredI’ m scaRe di' M sc a_

“I’m scared, I’m scared, I’m scared, I’m scared…”

Like a mantra, his lips continued to choke out those just way too familiar words.

“Number 4, Mister Bonham… Please get ready.”

The sound of steps coming closer rang through his brain like a shrill bell.

Close to tears at this point, his head snapped up to peek just across his knees.  
His body felt stiff and cramped, but he didn’t want to move yet.

Keith’s eyes widened and he held his breath.

The boy from before walked past him, body clothed in a expensive looking blue suit, head kept high and spine held straight.

Dazedly, his eyes clung to his form until the door leading backstage closed behind him.

_“We’re all afraid to get up on stage…”_

Were they really, though?

_“Maybe you’ll mess up. Maybe they’ll totally reject you…”_

* * *

 

Allura clasped her hands and closed her eyes in a silent prayer, waiting for her friend to appear.

She was certain that Coran would win their hearts all over again.

* * *

 

_“Even so… You grit your teeth and get up on stage, anyway.”_

Keith suddenly remembered to breathe.

Gasping, like he just breached the surface of the sea, he took in the air greedily.

Hurrying to stagger onto his feet, he almost fell over; just catching himself on time against the wall with one hand.  
Still winding his arms tightly around his body, he made his way through the hallways towards where he knew the reception room was.

It felt like years to him until he found it, but finally, he stumbled through the doorway.

Pianists and managers alike looked up at his shaky entry, conversations immediately dying down before starting up again, though this time more hushed.

Keith tried to ignore them through the sound of his blood rushing through his veins, instead concentrating on moving towards the big screen in one corner of the room.

The boy’s friend sat on a couch, watching the TV with excited eyes; but when she noticed him inching closer, her eyes widened just the slightest bit.  
She scooted over, one hand brushing over the space next to her, a silent invitation.

At first, he hesitated.

Both of them didn’t seem too fond of him before.

But he felt uneasy, like something bad was just waiting around the corner to jump out and happen, and so he quietly accepted the accidentally offered company.  
He sat down as far away from her as possible, shooting her a nod that hopefully came across as grateful when he felt her eyes on him, and then proceeded to try and not bounce his leg too much.

Keith raised his eyes just in time to see the ginger boy march on stage.

* * *

 

“Is it just me, or is there a different atmosphere in here now?” Pidge muttered with a frown, scanning their surroundings.

Lance huffed like it was obvious.  
“Well of course, duh. The overwhelming favorite to win just took the stage, after all!”

The boy on stage bowed with a stern expression.

“Chopin, Étude Op. 10, No. 4…”

Turning to lower the seat and sit down, he took a deep breath and opened the last of his suit’s buttons.

“Last year’s champion, Coran Bonham!”

* * *

 

Coran closed his eyes, taking another deep breath.

  
_“I will not be going to Germany.”_

_He faced his advertiser straight on, who was slowly but surely turning as red as a tomato._

_“I am going to enter the Altean Music Competition.”_

_The older man gasped.  
“But they invited you! This is a golden opportunity to get overseas exposure before the Chopin competition! You already won Altea last year, so there’s no need to make it a priority…”_

_Coran pursed his lips.  
“But there is a reason!” He cut in, shutting the other up._

_All he got was a pair of wide, realizing eyes._

_  
_ His fingers caressed the keys once in greeting, slowly, gently; then, they hovered above again.

_Watch me, Kogane!_

Coran’s eyes snapped open.

Immediately, his hands were nothing but passionate tornadoes dancing over the instrument with all he had to offer.

This time, for sure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was kinda hard to write, maybe because of the many PoVs?? idk 
> 
> oh well  
> now. listen. i thought really long and hard about if i wanted to put Allura and Coran in these roles and came to the conclusion, that, yes, i want to  
> those two are kind of important roles, and i really wanted to include the Alteans, though i wasn't sure how; if i didn't choose them, i would've had to look for Voltron side characters to put into these roles, and my options were all. like. ew. /no/  
> so, just imagine that those two babes are around the other's ages, and Coran doesn't have that disturbing mustache yet k thanks
> 
> now that this is done, i can finally start the Bioshock remastered collection i bought like a week ago but didn't get around to play yet  
> can u see me strugglin
> 
> (comments inspire me. just btw. just saying. i love y'all and your kind words and they really fire me up and make me squeal like a... whatever)  
> (i'm so thirsty for approval you dont even know)  
> (so however short it might be, please leave me your opinion here or on my tumblr, @ gayspaceguys)  
> (thank)


	8. Ringing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here they go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've been ashamed of a lot of things lately and sadly this chapter is one of those things  
> it took me so long to finish and it still doesn't feel right, but i wanted to deliver /something/ because i'm really hyped for the next part and want to get it up this weekend, but again i'm pretty busy?? not as busy as last weekend, but still. ugh  
> this one is almost kinda filler i guess???  
> but next time shit is going /dowwwwwn/  
> (we're all going down with it tho)  
> (rip)

_“Coran, you’ve received an invitation from the Waldenstern competition. It’s in Germany, so you’ll finally be going overseas!”_

_Irritated, his brows furrowed._

_“The Altean Competition’s around the same time, but let’s cancel that one…”_

_Coran braced himself with a deep intake of air.  
“I will not be going to Germany.”_

_He lifted his head, facing the shocked man._

_“I am going to enter the Altean Music Competition.”_

_The following outburst happened immediately.  
“But they invited you! This is a golden opportunity to get overseas exposure before the Chopin competition! You already won Altean last year, so there’s no need to make it a priority…”_

_“But there_ is _a reason!”_

_With a ‘tsk’, the older man crossed his arms expectantly._

_“Keith Kogane might be competing.”_

_“You keep saying that!” Now getting angry, he threw his hands up. “How long have we waited already?! He hasn’t shown his face in public for years now! There are even rumors that he can’t hear anymore!”_

_Coran refused to let the last sentence destroy his composure.  
“He might be competing this time,” he repeated calmly._

_“Coran!”_

_“No, Sendak.”_

_The silence afterwards was almost deafening._

_“I know it is ridiculous, and I am maybe sort of grasping at straws here… But my goal is not to go overseas, or to one day play in the Chopin competition.”_

_For just a second, he was 7 again and back in the big room; hunching on the edge of his seat with wide eyes, as pretty sounds echoed off the walls._

_“My goal is Keith Kogane…”_

_Watching the tiny Asian boy on stage nibble on his lips in concencration while his fingers flew over the piano’s keys gracefully._

_“… and the competition he will be playing in.”_

* * *

 

Coran only hoped that he was watching.

Determined, his hands collided with cold surfaces.

* * *

 

_Allura perked up when somebody inched closer, and her eyes widened reflexively in surprise._

_Keith Kogane was eyeing her shyly; trembling, sweating, looking pale and close to collapsing all at once.  
Despite it all she shuffled over a bit – even though there was more than enough space left – and patted the spot beside her, hoping he’d get the invitation._

_Her rival appeared hesitant at first.  
But then something seemed to convince him, and before she knew it the black haired boy was sitting down on the edge of the couch; as far away from her as possible._

_Allura watched him cautiously, though just barely catching the jerky nod he offered her in what she believed was silent gratitude._

_Keith still looked tense and ready to bolt any second now._

_But then, Coran marched on stage, and her attention was held captive elsewhere._

* * *

 

_Are you watching?_

_Are you listening?_

_Keith?_

Coran hoped that beneath all those burning gazes on his face was the one he needed to feel the most.

* * *

 

_Confronting the music with sincerity…_

_A strong will enabling him to stand up to his fears…_

_An unswerving fortitude at his core._

_This was Coran’s Chopin._

Sendak smirked victoriously;  
He knew that this was exactly the kind of playing the judges wanted to hear.

Kogane was the one who made Coran grow up; so he was thankful to the boy, really.  
Just by existing, he pushed his pianist to the top.

Familiar tunes continued to fill the audience’s ears; leaving everyone gaping and staring.

Yes.

This was it.

He raised his chin and grinned.

* * *

 

_The reason I was able to hang in there during the years that you were gone…_

Coran watched drops of sweat fly past his vision, making the keys beneath him glisten and slippery.

_… was because I always believed that you would be back one day._

_Have I caught up to you yet?_

_Or…_

_Am I even further behind?_

_Will you let me chase you down like a mirage again…?_

_Will you be the one I aspire to be?_

_Hey, answer me._

_Show me what you’ve got!_

_It’s your turn now…_

A pleased smiled pulled at the corners of his lips.

He felt more satisfied than ever.

_… Keith Kogane!_

This time, for sure.

* * *

 

Keith could feel himself releasing a breath he didn’t even know he was holding when the pianist’s head leaned back into his neck with eyes held closed, hands jumping off the keys one last time.

He looked so satisfied as he blinked, greedily taking in the applause like a sponge would absorb water.

Keith couldn’t take his eyes off him when he stood, bowing deeply; the overwhelming performance still fresh within his mind.

… Where could he drop out?

“It is all because of you.”

He almost yelped; just barely remembering that he was not alone.

Turning around, he was greeted with a soft smile.  
“It was you who made Coran reach those heights, Keith. All for the sake of catching up with you…”  
Allura tapped her cheek with a finger, lips curling into something else he couldn’t point a name to.

“That is what the piano was saying.”

Keith avoided to look at her.  
“Do you agree with the piano?” He could quietly hear himself ask her.

All he got was a huff.

* * *

 

Coran barely made it through the doorway before he had to brace himself against the wall.  
“It is finally over!” He wheezed, nonetheless smiling.

Perking up, he raised his hands in front of his face.  
The pianist huffed out a breathy laugh.  
“Now they start trembling!” He mumbled excitedly.

“Good job!”

Coran hurried to straighten his back, head snapping up so fast something in his neck popped.

Allura stood in front of him with her arms crossed; wearing an unreadable expression.

Just a step behind her, Keith hovered uncertainly.

He didn’t look as shaken up as he did when he walked past him before, but he still hugged his arms close to his upper body and just barely peeked up at him through his dark bangs falling into his visage.

“W-Well? Did you see that?” Coran spoke up heatedly, gesturing animatedly.

Keith’s shoulders hunched up at first, before he stiffly reached up to play with his hair.

Then, a small smile tugged at his bony cheeks.  
“You were amazing, really!”

Allura’s eyes widened, suddenly flickering between the two boys.

Coran was too busy gaping dumbfounded.  
Soon, though, he couldn’t help but rub at his neck while laughing awkwardly.  
“H-Hohoho, that— that was nothing, hoho!”

_“There will now be a 15-minute intermission…”_

His friend’s suspicious eyes lingered on his face for just a tick too long.

* * *

 

“Hey, who’s this?”

Lance leaned over Pidge’s lap to look at the picture Hunk was pointing at.  
“Oh, that’s Allura Griffin. She’s popular, too!”

Pidge pushed Lance out of her personal space, before scrunching up her forehead.  
“I knew the others both seemed familiar! When I used to go cheer Keith on, I used to see the three of them together all the time. I remember always seeing their names at the top.”

The taller boy frowned and tilted his head.

“I think Allura’s been struggling a little lately, though. Nothing but honorable mentions and not ranking higher than third place. The other day she didn’t even make it past the preliminaries!”

“To think that those three always used to be a lock for the top 3…” Pidge muttered, deep in thought.

Well.

That was probably what time did to some people, wasn’t it?

* * *

 

“Pardon me...”

Alfor skeptically glanced up, offering only a sigh in response at the person who just sat down a few seats next to him.

“Sendak.”

The other man smiled thinly.  
“Hello, Alfor. Tell me, how is it going with your daughter?”

He almost rolled his eyes.

“Coran’s performance was masterful,” he brought up instead. “I am sure it is all due to your instructions.”

“Oh ho, thank you very much! Well, in my case, the student has surpassed the master, haha!”  
His rival’s face fell a little.  
“But I do believe it’s time for him to start thinking globally… Since there probably isn’t anything left for him to accomplish domestically.”

Alfor caught the hidden meaning.

There was no match for Coran here anymore.

So, he stayed quiet.

Sendak cleared his throat awkwardly.  
“So… How’s she doing? Allura?”

The father smirked.  
“You see… Allura can be so temperamental.”

Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Sendak perk up.

“The most trivial thing can have a drastic effect on her performance. Like her new shoes pinching her toes, or her neighbor humming in a bizarre way… Even the weather that day could sway her.” Quietly, he huffed out an amused laugh.  
“It has been so hectic for everyone these last few years; trying to keep her motivated… Because the goal she should have vanquished had disappeared.”

No need to explain what he was talking about; they both knew it.

“But… It is different today.”

* * *

 

Keith’s eyes widened slightly in silent wonder as they stayed glued onto the girl’s back.

Her long, smooth, silver dress was fluttering behind her like a hero’s cape, along with her hair that fell like a never ending waterfall; movements making it look like waves rushing to the shore and back to sea again.

But what had him staring at her in the first place,

Was her determined expression.

Allura didn’t seem scared at all.

* * *

 

Sendak narrowed his eyes.

“Are you implying that she doesn’t see Coran as her goal?”

“Coran does not see Allura as a rival, either,” Alfor answered coolly.  
That guy even had the nerve to roll his eyes!  
“’The results speak for themselves’… It is written all over your face, you know.”

He just managed to suppress a wince.  
“Are you trying to pick a fight, Alfor?” Sendak hissed lowly.

Alfor smirked.  
“You are the one who threw down the gauntlet. But…”  
Confidently, he raised his chin.  
“Well. Women are combative creatures, Sendak. Do you understand? _Little Boy.”_

 _“We will now resume judging.”  
_ The lights dimmed back down.

 “Coran’s reign will end today. Allura will bring an end to it,” Alfor finished calmly.

Sendak scowled, crossing his arms.  
He tried to ignore the way his face heated up in shame.

* * *

 

Allura shuddered.  
“Whew, goosebumps…”

She carefully rubbed a hand over her right arm.

Yet, a smile played around her lips.

_It has been a while since I felt this way…_

With one last, deep breath and purposeful steps, she strode on stage.

Finally, the time has come.

* * *

 

_“Oh, I never told you this, did I? You were on a business trip that time, I believe. Listen, listen! When I was five, I went to a piano recital to cheer on a friend…”_

_Her mother opposite her raised a cup of coffee up to her lips; eyebrows settling expectantly, gaze open and curious._

_“Just when I was about to fall asleep from boredom, he appeared on stage!”_

_It still felt as if she only saw him for the first time not long ago._

_His tiny figure marched on stage, steps wide and feet always lifting high, with his arms stiffly swinging along.  
He tried to keep a serious expression, but the left strap of his knee-long dungaree was slightly slipping and his glasses didn’t seem to sit exactly right and then he came to a stop in the middle of the stage._

_Eyes wide and scared, he eventually bowed; rigid as a board.  
But then his butt hit the piano’s seat and threw it over, and the boy was flailing with a yelp and struggling to put it back up._

_Allura giggled at the memory._

_“He was such a bundle of nerves, I was getting jittery myself! My heart was pounding like crazy.”_

_“Oh, he was? I wouldn’t have thought that…”  
Her mother smiled softly, looking amused._

_“Yes! I know, right? I later found out that was the first time he had ever performed in front of other people like that. But… That moment of silence before his fingers touched the keys… The time he took to bid his hesitation and fear farewell…”_

_She sighed dreamily.  
“The moment he started playing, my future was decided. When he finished, he was beaming with pride and accidentally cried out! All, ‘I did it, I did it’! And when he realized it right after, he just went ‘Oops!’ and sheepishly put his hands over his mouth! But, then…”_

_Her cheeks heated up at what she recalled next.  
She could still hear the confused but also comforting words of the unfamiliar girl sitting next to her; a complete stranger trying to calm her down._

_“I just… started bawling. Like,_ really _loudly, and not even anything close to cutely!”_

_An outright laugh.  
“Really? Oh my!”_

_Allura winced, but couldn’t help a smile, either.  
“Embarrassing, I know!”_

_Her mother smiled sympathetically.  
“I guess. But I’m sure it must’ve been worse for little Keith!”_

_She pulled up her shoulders with a pout._  
_“Do not even remind me! He was crestfallen! Slouching off the stage with hunched shoulders and that really sorrowful, disappointed expression! But my heart would not stop pounding, and tears kept filling my eyes…”_  
_Her smile reflected in the surface of the drink within her grasp._  
_“All of my emotions just came gushing out at once… I was just, so moved! As if I was embodying all the pleasure music brings!”_

_Allura hesitated._

_“He, on the other hand… Keith… He changed, mother.”_

_‘Like a machine…’_  
_‘He really is his mother’s puppet.’_  
_‘He’s like a slave to the sheet music…’_  
_‘A pianist made only for competitions!’_

_She unconsciously frowned as the sound of voices long gone echoed through her head._

_Her mother seemed deep in thoughts at her words, so she got lost within her own mind, too._

_Keith’s mother was dreaming…_

_She understood it, somehow._

_His mother entered him in that competition to test him, and her dreams for_ him _began with his magnificent performance…_

_The dreams she could never realize for herself._

_So, she drilled him…_

_To give performances that would leave results;_

_That could win competitions._

_But_ she…

_Allura was different._

* * *

 

Keith stayed on his spot even after Allura left; once again fixated on the big screen as the dark skinned girl made her way over to the instrument.

“You know, she can say stuff that sounds pretty mean and sometimes come across as kind of cold, but she really is a wonderful being! And she also really has a thing for you, you know.”

He flinched as Coran sat down on a seat a few steps away from his place.

“For… me?”

“Yeah!”  
The ginger boy nodded eagerly.  
“I mean, she was always telling me stuff like, ‘Coran, you do not know the real Keith, do you?’ whenever I would only even talk about you!”

In the live stream, Allura sat down; for a second, she just rested there with her eyes closed, her fingers limp in her lap, and her feet already prepared for action against the pedals.

Finally, she raised one hand.

* * *

 

Sendak squinted.

The girl was playing close eyed; still only using one hand for the slow intro.

_Huh. What a lovely sound. But…_

He glanced over at Alfor with a smirk.

_If that was all she got…_

As if on cue, Alfor smiled contentedly and Allura’s eyes shot open.

* * *

 

Both of her hands stormed off on the keys, raging like a hurricane; her long hair caressed the shape of her body lovingly as she swayed along.

Alfor closed his eyes to listen closely.

Well, it was true that Allura could be erratic.  
Like a restless sea, the waves of her emotions are surging unsteadily.  
Today, though…

It wouldn’t be a surprise to see those waves reach their crest.

* * *

 

Allura smiled.

She just couldn’t help it!

In sync with the piano, her fingers felt light.  
Today she’s in the zone!

Maybe... because the scones she had for breakfast were so good.

Maybe because her new dress looked so good on her.

Because she was having a good hair day.

That had to be it.

But…

Allura frowned thoughtfully.

No, of course not!

Her hands’ movements grew more intense.

Why was she making excuses to herself?

He was finally here.  
After she waited for years, he was here…

He’s gotten taller.

He looked a little more mature.

His hair grew longer, and his voice sounded deeper…

But she knew him at a glance.

Ever since then, her excitement had been surging.

_“Do you agree with the piano?”_

Allura huffed.  
_Don’t make me laugh!_

She’s been playing the piano all this time, in order to reject him.  
Even if she lost…

Even if she got trounced…

She would reject him every time.

(It felt a lot like her fingers were dancing.  
Allura sure was sweating the part!)

Playing for competitions…

That wasn’t the Keith Kogane she wanted to hear.

What she wanted to hear…

She closed her eyes.

* * *

 

Keith’s gasped quietly.

He could feel it, even through the screen; if the pleasantly surprised noise to his left was anything to go by, Coran apparently did, too.

Were these… her emotions?

Red and yellow…

Anger, and…

* * *

 

_“Do you agree with the piano?”_

… Yeah.

She was only here because of him.

Just because of less than four minutes…

A performance lasting just less than four minutes…

That’s what made her a pianist.

_Come back, the Keith Kogane I looked up to!_

Let it ring…

_Let it ring!_

_My piano—_

_Let it ring!_

_My emotions, I want you to see them._

_So—_

_Let it ring!_

“Let it ring!” She breathed, body pushing into her thrusting hands.

* * *

 

Red and yellow…

Her anger, and…

Her loneliness.

Chopin’s Étude, Op. 25, No.11…

‘Winter Wind’.

* * *

 

With one last movement, her right hand flew above her head, while the other slipped off into her lap.

Panting, she glanced up at the ceiling, taking in the deafening silence of it all.

She stood up, and the walls trembled from all the noise that came crashing in like a flood.  
A smile stretched across her lips as she bowed one last time for all the people standing up.

_Let it ring._

_My piano…_

_Let it ring!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can u see my problem with this piece of garbage
> 
> btw i guess it's not actually Sendak lol i just was too tired to think of a name for the guy  
> it kinda /is/ Alfor tho, soo /shrugs
> 
> next time: keith-centric!! /angst!!!/ y'all gonna hate me haha!!
> 
> why am i doing this


	9. Punishment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flashbacks. Flashbacks everywhere. Also, it's finally Keith's turn - but it goes as well as one could expect. Except, like, ten times worse. Yeah.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh wow what a train wreck
> 
>  
> 
> Warnings!!: child abuse (verbal and physical), anxiety attacks, and just a lot of a happy young Keith becoming a troubled young Keith.

_Allura couldn’t stop nodding off._

_When the boy wearing a dungaree begun his play, bathing the whole place in light, she was wide awake._

_*_

_Allura continued climbing._

_“What’s with this all of a sudden?”_

_“Allura?”_

_She let her hands ache until she reached the top, there pushing them into the biting air._

_“I am going to be a pianist!” She cried out, tears running down her wobbly face._

_It was cold, everything hurt, and she didn’t like the height._

_Her parents called her name; worriedly offered to get her back down._

_On top of a jungle gym, she chose her future._

_*_

_Allura threw it all away._

_Storing away her set of watercolors in the box in front of her, she balled her hands into fists at her sides._

_Not only her painting tools accusingly stared back at her.  
She also recognized many different sort of balls; bats, tennis rackets, heavy books._

_Abandoning all her other infinite possibilities, she chose that one._

_*_

_Allura kept crying._

_“I-I want people to hear me and think, ‘I-I want to b-be a pianist, t-too’! W-Will I be a-able to play the p-piano like that, t-too?” She hiccupped._

_Her father crouched down to engulf her shaking body within his big arms, wearing a soft smile._

_*_

_Allura never stopped trying._

_“If you wish for it hard enough, Allura, I am sure that the music will respond to you. The piano will listen if you want it to.”_

_She stared at the black instrument, lips pursing into a thin line.  
“Can I play it?”_

_“Of course!”  
Her father went to push up the lid, revealing a wide set of beautiful blank keys._

_Stepping closer, she raised a trembling finger.  
Carefully, she slowly pushed down; pressing a random key._

_The shrill sound left her cringing._

_Tears welled up in her eyes, leaving them prickling annoyingly._

_“I-Is that the only k-kind of s-sound I can make…?” She whined, turning her head when her father tried to catch her gaze._

_But the sounds that boy made, they were just like sunflowers…  
They were blossoming as the sun continued to shine on them, growing and perking up their heads curiously as they bathed in the warm light._

_“Allura, dear, you will have to practice—“_

_Determined, she rubbed her fists over her eyes, stomping one foot and looking up._

_“Teach me, please!”_

_*_

_“Every great performer played for the first time at some point.”_

_Allura blinked up from where she sat on her mother’s lap; the woman was soothingly carding one of her hands through her daughter’s hair, preparing to braid it, and holding her close with the other._

_“Even Mozart; even Beethoven…”_

_She squirmed around a bit._

_“Even the person who made you think, ‘I want to become a pianist’!”_

_Gasping, she glanced up._

_Her mother was smiling down at her._

_“What will_ you _pour into your piano playing, I wonder?”_

_Huh?_

_“What wish will_ you _ask it to grant you?”_

_Oh._

_She gulped.  
“I…”_

_Want to play the piano like that boy._

_“I…!”_

_Want to stand on the same stage as him!_

_That way, she’ll be sure…_

_That she’ll be able to see what he sees._

_*_

_“Just let the piano ring, Allura.”_

_*_

Allura bowed with a smile.

She sure _did_.

* * *

 

Nothing ever pulled him out of his thoughts faster than a fist curling into the fabric of the collar of his shirt.

Keith gasped soundlessly, staring into Allura’s glowing eyes.  
Sweat was dripping off her cheeks every now and then; her chest heaving with unsteady breaths.

“I…!” She squeezed out.

Somewhere far away, Coran was calling his friend’s name.

The girl didn’t let go at that, though; she kept him pulled close to her warm face, insistently searching his eyes for something.  
Her own pair widened, and suddenly her grip loosened.

Taking a deep breath, her fingers straightened against his chest, almost even pushing him away now.

“Sorry,” Allura mumbled breathily. “I… am going to change.”

“A-Ah…” Keith replied dumbly, racking his brain for something else to say.  
“Y-Yeah, don’t catch a cold!” He quietly called after her retreating back.

A smile creeped its way onto his face soon after, though.

No more words were needed.

They were musicians, after all.

And he got the message.

_“There will now be an intermission. Judging will resume in fifteen minutes…”_

* * *

 

When Lance came back from the restrooms, Hunk was rubbing gentle circles into Pidge’s back.  
The short girl was leaning onto the back of the seat in front of her, not even looking up when he sat down.

“Hey, what’s the matter?” He asked worriedly.

Pidge groaned, banging her forehead against the edge once.  
“The closer it gets to Keith’s turn, my stomach just… It’s so much easier to deal with my own matches!” She whined lowly.

“It’s not like you’re the one who’ll be playing, though,” Lance argued with a frown.

“I know that! But is Keith gonna be alright…?” His friend muttered, lips forming into a pout. “He could be quaking in his shoes after that amazing performance, y’know…”

“That’s _so_ not happening, man!”

They both glanced up at Hunk, who was smiling at them encouragingly.

“It’s Keith, after all! He’ll be fine!”

* * *

 

_“We will now resume judging.”_

Keith’s fingers kept banging against the cold floor.  
He couldn’t even tell if they were playing the rhythm of his piece anymore, or if they moved on to their own distressed symphony by now.

_Thump. Thumpthump. Thump— Thump._

The sound of his pounding heart was filling his ears.

It was time for him to put on his suit.  
He knew that, but…

Curling his hands into tight fists, he raised his head from where it rested against his knees; letting them push him off the ground.

Yeah.

Changing rooms, now.

* * *

 

Coran continued to watch with a frown; unable to concentrate on any of the performers in front of him.

_Kogane’s piece of choice today is Chopin’s Étude Op. 25, No. 5…_

He growled and crossed his arms.

_Inconceivable!_

* * *

 

Allura kept her nose buried within the program booklet.

She frowned.  
Until now, Keith always showcased his ability to play difficult pieces without a false note.  
Which was why she challenged him with her Op. 25, No. 11; Winter Wind…  
And she was convinced that Coran challenged him, too!

But the song their rival chose to play today couldn’t be considered a difficult piece…

Allura let out a sharp _‘tsk’._

It was inconceivable!

* * *

 

“How did you pick out Keith’s piece?” Pidge asked curiously.

Lance’s expression grew sheepish, and she almost recoiled.

“Oh _God_.”

“I…”

“ _No_.”

“I just spun a pencil!”

_“You fucking—“_

“It didn’t matter.”

Pidge cut herself off when Lance sighed.  
“It didn’t matter what piece he played…” he added, running a hand through his hair,”… as long as he entered the competition.”

Lance closed his eyes.

“It really… didn’t matter at all…”

* * *

 

“Keith Kogane? Please get ready.”

Pursing his lips, he straightened his tie and spun around.

One last, deep breath.

“All right.”

* * *

 

“Just by placing himself in this particular space, he’s sure to feel stimulated… There’s no way he won’t feel provoked!”

Pidge couldn’t point a name towards Lance’s expression anymore.

“The other pianists won’t let him hang back. They won’t allow him to stop…”  
Except the bitter smile. That, she could tell.  
“Keith’s a musician, too, after all.”

* * *

 

The sound of his heavy steps roared through his head.

Everything felt so strange…

Was it because it’s been such a long time?

His heart continued to hammer against his chest; it felt hot, and oh so violent.

Was it because he watched those two perform?

Without holding back, grasping him with both hands; shaking his soul to its very core.

They were calling out through the piano.

Telling him to look at them, to listen to them.

To answer them.

And so, he would.

* * *

 

Lance grinned thinly.  
“I’m sure the clock’s hand will move. Time will start to flow again!”

Pidge’s eyes widened.

* * *

 

“Are you ready?”

Keith almost laughed hysterically.

Of course not!

Despite it all, he stepped out on stage without another word.

People immediately gasped and whispered.

_“There he is!”_  
_“It’s him!”_  
 _“Is that really…?”_  
 _“Kogane!”_

He knew he shouldn’t listen—

The voices made him freeze up in the middle of moving, anyway.

Keith blinked.

His ponytail mockingly tickled his neck.

“Come on…”

Wide eyed, he turned to stare at the audience.

* * *

 

_“Come on, we’re gonna play dodgeball! You can just dodge all the time, okay?”_

_Squinting against the bright sunlight, he tried to face Pidge as good as he could from his position; still halfway hiding behind the door._

_“Ka— Pidge, I’m… in the middle of a lesson with my mom,” he whispered as loudly as he dared._

_His friend pouted, letting out a low whine.  
“Whaat? Again?”_

_Keith hurried to step out from where he stood, still clinging to the door handle; trying to shush her with raised arms._

_And it worked – he only realized too late that it did for another reason than he first realized._

_Gaping, Pidge moved closer._  
_“Huh? Hey, how’d you get all those welts?”_  
 _She pointed at his bare arms which looked rather purple than anything else, really._

_Keith winced, crossing them at the center of his back._

_“I—I was in a hurry, and… and, I bumped my arm.”_

_Pidge huffed and rolled her eyes, twisting her ball within her hands, flipping it into the air a few times.  
“You really are a klutz, aren’t you?”_

_“Keith![Jigeum dasi seodulleo!](google%20translator%20lol)” _

_They both flinched at the sharp, cracked voice cutting through the air._

_Pidge went at least two shades paler than she usually was.  
“W-Woah, scary stuff…”_

_“Sorry,” he offered shakily. “My… mom’s calling me, Pidge. Ask me a-another time, yeah?”_

_“S-Sure! Good luck!”_

_Keith nodded jerkily, pushing up on his toes to pull the door back closed._

_The sound as the lock clicked sounded final._

_*_

_His hands balled into fists at his sides; making his whole limbs ache just from tensing up._

_Worrying on his lower lip, he peered at his mother from behind the door of their room, gaze falling onto Red’s empty bowl resting not far from the piano, below a window lighting up the otherwise gloomy room._

_Red would have loved to listen to him now while bathing in the sun next to her food supply._

_“Sit yourself down,” his mother ordered sternly._

* * *

 

Keith froze.

He blinked and found the piano looming ominously in front of him, everything else fading into the background.

Except for the instrument and his mother beside it awaiting him.  
Dark bangs hid her eyes from view, but her lips curled into a bitter smile.

_“All right. Let’s begin, Keith.”_

The dark haired boy was trembling.

Was he finally losing it?

His mother was _dead._

Was, was, was—

What even _was_ anymore?

* * *

 

_“Eomma, Eomma! I brought your laundry!”_

_Keith smiled, struggling to push the heavy door back closed.  
When he finally did it, he hurried to his mother’s side, proudly pulling the strap of the soft bag over his head._

_“Oh, Keith,” she greeted, wearing a small smile._  
_For a second she shifted around and tried to get more comfortable where she sat._  
 _“How did it go? The Memorial Competition?”_

_Keith set the bag stuffed with clothes down on the mattress.  
He perked up when she proceeded to ask, though, and a grin made his face glow warmly._

_“I got first place! Look, I brought the certificate!”_

_Rummaging through the stuff he held, he pulled out a rolled up bundle and handed it over._

_His mother tilted her head before she took it with delicate fingers._

_Keith’s eyes fell on the IV flowing into her sickly pale and bruised skin._

_“But that one child gave you such troubles…”_

_“I practiced a ton!” He explained, puffing out his chest in a boost of confidence; gaze snapping back to his mother’s face._

_“Good for you, dear. That makes me feel better already! Your achievements really are the best medicine for me, Keith.”_

_A relieved giggle erupted from his throat as he happily smiled at her.  
“Well, then I’ll make first place again! If it just makes you better, Mommy…”_

_For some reason his eyes were welling up with tears, and he clutched at the hem of his shirt with wobbly lips._

_“I-I’ll make first place as m-many times as you w-want!”_

* * *

 

… Oh.

Anger bubbled up deep within his stomach, his eyes narrowing.

“What’s the matter?”  
“He’s standing still…?”

“Tsk,” he hissed under his breath, raising his chin.

_Don’t waver._

_Don’t be afraid._

Finally, his feet continued their way to his seat.  
He sat down without another look back, straightening the fabric of his new lilac suit.

It looked stupid, really, but Pidge’s mother said it’d compliment his eyes perfectly when they bought it, so he just went with it.

The only thing clear to him were the keys in front of him; they filled his vision completely, a never ending stream of black and white.

It felt like it was overpowering him.

_“We’re all afraid, y’know.”_

His eyes widened when Lance’s voice rang through his brain.

Yeah.

He had to…

Keith’s hands slammed down before he really knew it;

His mother’s burning gaze seared his face all the way through.

* * *

 

Pidge gasped softly when suddenly a familiar sound cut through the air.

On one side Hunk curiously leaned forward in his seat, while Lance on the other raised his head with a shocked expression; he clung to the back of the seat in front of him until now, forehead resting against it while mumbling incomprehensible things under his breath.

But—

There Keith was, under the spotlight again.

He was there, and he was playing.

It was fine.

* * *

 

Coran grinned excitedly.

“There he is!” He whispered, eyes sparkling.

He was back.

The invincible one; the pianist who’s a breed apart.

The one he looked up to.

Keith Kogane.

* * *

 

Allura frowned.

She didn’t know what to make of this.

It was all back;

His unmatched accuracy.

His playing – like a mirror image of the score.

… The stainless steel-like piano inaccessible to the rest of them.

This was the same Keith Kogane from years ago.

She closed her eyes.

* * *

 

Keith grit his teeth.

_I can hear the notes…_

His fingers hurt already.

_They’re moving. I can play the score exactly as I’ve memorized it._

_If worst comes to worst, I can play on the strength of my muscle memory…_

_This is no different than how I’ve always played._

_“That’s how it should be.”_

His eyes widened at the soft rush of air tickling his ear; the sharp voice accompanying it.

_“A musician should be a mirror that reflects the score.”_

It took him everything he got to keep playing.

_“Besides, you can’t win unless you do it this way.”_

A pair of thin arms locked around his neck and his mother’s long hair tickled his cheeks.

_“You’re going to get first place for me again, aren’t you, Keith?”_

His breath hitched in his throat.

* * *

 

_“You were playing the piano again this morning?”_

_“Uh huh. I only came to buy food now,” he mumbled._

_Pidge and Hunk hurried after him, trying to keep up._

_“My dad’s away on business again, so it’s just for me and my mom…”_

_Something yanked at the grocery bag he was carrying, followed by an indignant cry.  
“But that’s just egg sandwiches! That’s not very healthy, Keith!”_

_Keith pulled back in irritation, frowning and pursing his lips.  
“Well, mom won’t let me use a knife!”_

_“I told you, my parents offered to cook for you! I can bring you something over!”_

_He shook his head.  
They could take care of themselves just fine!_

_“How’s your mom doing, Keith?” Hunk peeped up shyly. “Mine said she hasn’t been feeling well lately…”_

_Keith huffed and turned away, continuing his walk home._

_“She’s going to be hospitalized soon.”_

_“But why?” Pidge asked curiously, and he could hear their footsteps trail along._

_His shoulders hunched up.  
“I’m sure it’s all my fault,” he whispered._

_“Huh?”_

_“What? Don’t talk to yourself like that!”_

_“Pidge…”_

_“Ah, nothing,” he muttered, just loud enough for them to hear._

_Until they said their goodbyes and parted ways, the air was drowned in silence._

* * *

 

_Oh. Right._

_My mom got mad because I couldn’t play the way she wanted me to and ruined her health._

_So I’m gonna take first place…_

_And make her well again._

_“Kogane’s in first again?”  
_ _“He really is a human metronome, huh?”_

_Keith buried his face within his knees._

_“Why can’t he just go back overseas already…”_  
_"He’s always in our way!”  
_ _"Yeah, and he’s nothing but his mother’s puppet, anyway…”_

_Shut up, shut up, shut up—_

_None of them know what they’re talking about!_

_He was the only one on his mother’s side._

* * *

 

_Keith could feel himself blushing as he clutched the broom to his chest, smiling brightly.  
“Next time, my mom’s coming from the hospital to see me perform!”_

_Pidge perked up in surprise, wringing out a rag.  
“Oh, really?”_

_He nodded in confirmation, and Hunk sent a warm grin his way as he swept some sweat off his brow._

_“So your mom’s recovered? That’s great, Keith!”_

_“I bet it was my visit who helped her. And those candy erasers I brought last time!”_

_Hunk frowned at Pidge.  
“… I don’t think she even knew what to do with them…”_

_Keith laughed wholeheartedly as the hallway continued to fill with students’ chatters._

* * *

 

The entrance on the left side, facing the audience…

A spot where I can see her.

That’s my mom’s special seat.

_Keith glanced up from the piano, blowing a few loose strands of hair out of his face._

_A blush crept its way into his cheeks after he scanned the rows of people._

_There she was!_

* * *

 

_"So, you see, in order to make Mom well again…”_

_Hunk and Pidge turned back to him expectantly._

_“… in order to make her happy…”_

_Keith grinned widely until his cheeks were starting to ache._

_“I’m gonna play my very best as a gift for her!”_

* * *

 

_He straightened his back and let his fingers dance; let them jump; let them just_ be _and_ move.

_Keith was sure this had to be his best performance yet._

_Letting all his feelings pour into his very touch, he hoped they would reach her._

* * *

 

_A loud slap echoed through the entrance hall and his face was forced sideways with a stinging sensation._

_Reflexively, his hands reached up to protect it, letting out a shocked whimper._

_“Jin-Ri! What—“_

_“Just_ what _do you call that performance?!”_

_Hands reached out, trying to hold the fuming woman back in her chair, but his mother was absolutely furious._

_“How many times have I told you to review the score?!”_

_Keith felt hot tears pool at the corner of his eyes, unable to suppress a gasp and flinch when something hard collided with his ribs._

_“You_ idiot— _Misplaying both the third and eleventh measures_!”

_“Stop it, Jin!”_

_People were staring and whispering, not knowing how to interfere._

_“So harsh…”_  
_“But I’ve never heard the boy play better…”_  
 _“I-I’m going to get one of the staff…!"_

_He took a step back, trying to avoid the spit flying at him, but he couldn’t escape his mother’s walking stick as it struck once more._

_“You make mistakes like that because you’re drowning in your own emotions!”_

_With one last hit, his glasses cracked and clattered to the floor._

_Keith stared at them, wide eyed and shivering.  
Something warm and sticky was steadily flowing down his left cheek, and he took a shaky breath before he locked his jaw; slowly turning back around to face her._

_Rage was burning inside of him along with his ribcage, wreaking havoc on more than just his body, longing to get out._

“You’re not going to bed until you can play that passage!”  
“Why can’t you even play an easy piece like that?! You’re worthless!”

_The shadow of a hand looming over him._

“I’m in the middle of a lesson with my mom…”  
"Whaat? Again?"

“Messing up the same part, again and again!”

_Whispers, wherever he went._

“Look, look, he’s covered in bruises…”  
“That’s why he always wears long sleeves, huh...”  
“Who’d be that rough with a kid?”  
“She’s a monster…”

_Keith flung the notes within his hands at his mother’s feet, covering his ears with the palms of his hands desperately._

_He could still hear the outraged gasp.  
“How _ dare _you throw that score, you– you should be ashamed of yourself!”_

_Shaking his head, he hissed.  
“A-All I wanted wa-was f-for you t-to be— be h-happy…”_

_His mother stilled; gaping as she recoiled, lowering her hand._

_“E-Even when I… w-when I wanted to— to p-play with… H-Hunk and P-Pidge…”_

_Keith carefully let his hands slide down, until they hung limply at his sides._

_“Even w-when… you h-hit me…”_

_Something within his head just_ snapped _.  
He could hear himself talking, but the words pushed past his lips before he could really think them over._

_“I… I p-put up wi-with it…”_

_His mind was blank and foggy all the same; his forehead scrunched up in frustration as he tried to get it to work again._

_“I... put u-up with it. I k-kept prac-practicing…”_

_Hiccups interrupted the gush of words he pressed out and he tried to suppress them, tried to not let his voice waver this time._

_“All I wanted was— was for you to get better… All I wanted, was… f-for you to be h— happy!”_

_Tears made their way over his flaming cheeks, mixing with the blood still streaming down._

_“A-And y-yet…”_

_His icy hands curled into fists and his chest started to heave painfully, breathing suddenly sounding funny to his ears._

_“I-I…”_

_His vision blurred for reasons other than his tears and he got really scared when his head became fuzzier than it felt already, leaving him lightheaded._

_He didn’t know what was happening anymore._

_The ground beneath his feet was moving on its own all unexpectedly, making him stumble over his feet.  
With a painful thud his knees hit the cold floor and his fingers reached up to claw at his chest, his collarbone, his throat—_

_Hands reached out to touch him, but he cried out in a blind panic and tried to crawl out of their reach, curling in on himself.  
It didn’t help his breathing in any way; it only made his lungs crush themselves tighter, squeezing all the remaining oxygen out faster._

_“I w-wish you—you’d j-just d-d-die!” He howled eventually._

_Through the static within his mind, he was just barely able to grasp the look of shock on his mother’s face._

_Her lips parted wordlessly as she continued to watch him hurt._

_But after that he was long gone; the rest of his memories became jumbled and vague, accompanied by nothing but his cries and incoherent words that rolled off his heavy tongue._

_Next thing he remembered was that he woke up to pain back home in his room, with his father asleep next to him, knees on the ground and chest pressed against the mattress; holding one of his small hands within both of his warm ones._

_That was the last time Keith spoke to her._

* * *

 

_“… Keith?”_

_He could feel her shift against his back, leaning her slim shoulders against his.  
Her long hair entangled with his._

_Quiet, he hummed patiently._

_Nothing stopped his fingers from moving over the keys, though._

_“Are you…”_  
_Once more she stirred, apparently bowing her head he guessed from the way it tickled him._  
 _“Are you going to compete in the finale?”_

_The words took a second to register within his sluggish brain._

_“… Yeah. Since I did get through the prelims.”_

_Pidge’s shoulders lifted in a deep breath, but she didn’t say anything else._

_She didn't need to._

_He frowned slightly.  
“I know it’s awful. My mother just passed away, and here I am, worrying about the competition in a few days. How horrible is that?”_

_His friend leaned back until her head brushed against his again._

_“Are you okay?” She whispered meekly, inching as close to him as she could to offer comfort._

_Why wouldn’t he be?_

_“Sure. That’s how I was built, after all, wasn’t I?”_

_Pidge softly knocked the back of her head against his, mutely shaking it._

_Keith didn’t reply._

_He couldn’t remember her face that day._

* * *

 

_“His mother just passed away, didn’t she…?”_  
_“How can he play the piano like nothing happened?”_  
 _“He’s not off by even a fraction! It’s business as usual with him…”_

_Keith heard the whispers.  
They were there, like always; they just changed in shape._

_Numbly, his fingers continued to move completely on their own._

_The entrance on the left side, facing the audience..._  
_A spot where he could see her._  
 _His mother’s special seat._

_Narrowing his eyes, he glanced up._

_It was empty._

_This…_

_Was his punishment._

* * *

 

_“That’s right…”_ she cooed sweetly. _“This is your punishment.”_

Was he still playing?

He didn’t know.

_“You understand that, don’t you…?”_

Her warm breath continued to graze the shell of his ear, soft hair brushing against the base of his jaw.

_“My darling, darling little Keith…”_

His eyes widened and his hands jerked.

Gasps filled his ears just before a shrill ringing did.

The sound was disappearing, getting carried away like fragile flower petals within a raging storm.

_N-No…_

Keith couldn’t hear it.

* * *

 

Allura couldn’t take her eyes off the stage.

“He is starting to unravel…” She whispered in shock.

“About Kogane…”

Sharply, she looked up at her father.

He wore a serious frown, and his next words had her feeling ill.

“Rumor has it that he cannot hear the notes anymore.”

She gripped the edges of her seat as she inched forward, eyes wide and shaken.

The playing was sounding off.  
Keith seemed completely caught within his actions, never even faltering in his movements.

Was he even aware of it?

It was unsettling, to watch and listen alike.

* * *

 

Keith was falling.

His back crashed into cold water, and it engulfed him like his mother’s bony arms used to; pulling him down, down, _down_ , all the way towards the bottom of the sea.

He grasped at his neck, tried not to part his lips, but the pressure on his lungs was too much for him to bear.

Desperately gasping for air, the only thing he got was water filling his chest instead, making his heart go overdrive.

Once again he was drowning all alone, with nothing but haunting ghosts to keep him company.

This was his punishment, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jigeum dasi seodulleo! = Hurry back now!  
> (says Google Translator)  
> (correct me if you know the real deal)
> 
> *
> 
> did anyone ask for this? no. did i still deliver? yes
> 
> should i tag this as emotional manipulation/trauma? bc it sure feels like i should sometimes ngl
> 
> but hey i'm back on schedule!! yay
> 
> thank you all for your lovely support so far! it warms my heart to read your comments all over again, and i always get really excited whenever i look at the Kudos counter. :') i couldn't wish for more! so glad i can keep you entertained. i hope you guys stick around for a while.  
> i wish y'all a beautiful day!


	10. Hydrangea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It continues. Well, there's flowers, and tears, and pain. Also, Keith's mom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not much happening here yet. kinda? idk?
> 
> i listened to Mariana's Trench [Lover Dearest](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BqGVOSkAY4M) one too many times so this got kinda sappy and sadder than originally intended ahahaha (help)  
> well, Josh Ramsay actually wrote this song when he was in rehab, as a (love/parting-)letter towards a drug; when I wrote this chapter, though, i realized it could be interpreted other ways, so now i'm like. keith. hey. my son. is this, by any chance, your song?? asking for a friend  
> (i really really recommend to give this song a try, it's really emotional!! i'll just use my favorite line of it as a quote in the beginning of this chapter bc i can lololol)
> 
> i'm sorry this chapter took so long
> 
>  
> 
> Warnings!!: Keith's mom. but, like, not really, y'know (you'll see)

 

_Is the bitter in you_

_And the quitter in me?_

**_\- Marianas Trench - Lover Dearest -_ **

* * *

_"Ah, man, we lost! Guess I botched my chance of becoming a star, huh."_

_With a small smile, Keith glanced up from the notes he held in front of his face as they walked; Hunk was staring up at the pretty night sky, though._

_“Setbacks come with the territory of becoming a star,” he added wisely._

_“Then it’s the perfect deal for you.”  
Keith’s smile turned upside down as Hunk’s eyes fell on him, sparkling vividly._

_“I’m going to hand over the role of this season’s star to you, buddy!”_

_“I’m not you, Hunk,” he huffed and steered his attention back to the scores._

_“Damn right you aren’t! I’m me, you’re you, and that’s perfectly fine. I don’t have Pidge’s skills, and I can’t play the piano, and really, it’s fine. It’s how it’s supposed to be.”_

_A comfortable silence filled the air between them; the only sound meeting his ears being the ones their shoes created against the pavement._

_“… You still can’t hear, though?”_

_His grip around the paper tightened, crumpling it beneath his fingers._

_Keith let out a shaky breath. “I can’t. I just… I can’t get it out of my head.”_

“I’m scared… I’m scared…!”

_“That… and the idea that I won’t be able to hear the notes ever again,” he whispered. His steps faltered over the time, and Hunk turned back around when they completely halted; soft concern mirroring on his face._

_A smile lifted his cheeks, then.  
_ _"Well, setbacks come with the territory of becoming a star, don’t they? In the face of adversity, that’s when you know if someone’s the real deal or not! Or so people say.”_

_Keith huffed and rolled his eyes at that, raising the notes to bury his nose back within them._

_“But, hey, Keith. You_ are _the real deal. You know that, right?”_

_Keith refused to admit that his cheeks might have been actually pretty hot at that time._

_A set of hands plucked the papers out of his grasp, and he looked up to see Hunk pointing upwards._

_“Hey, hey, look up! The stars only shine at night, y’know!”_

_Slowly, his eyes traced up to face the sky; It looked without a doubt really beautiful and dangerous at the same time, and his eyes widened in awe._

_But, yeah._

_There was no other place he could imagine them existing like that._

* * *

 

Lance’s eyes widened.

Around them, people were becoming restless and confused.

“Chopin, Étude Op. 25, No. 5… was it?”  
“Is this really how it’s supposed to sound like…?”  
“It’s so fast and rough…”

Just like when they played together, the notes were all over the place; and the pianist was only going faster and faster.

Lance briefly wondered if Keith even realized what was happening or if he was too far gone at this point.

He didn’t like either answers.

* * *

 

It was gone, gone, gone…

Once again, all he was doing was to desperately try to squeeze out the sound.

His shoulders were up to his chin by now, and his jaw ached from keeping it locked for so long, his suit sticking grossly to his whole body as his fingers kept sliding off either too early or too late—

Keith slammed down forcefully one more time, eyes widening angrily.

Not yet!

“Focus, focus, focus…” He breathed; through the ringing in his ears he barely registered how much his voice bordered on sounding hysterical.

His hands continued to work the keys as he tried to give his undivided attention to the instrument.

Just like last time, when he played with Lance.

He needed to embrace the notes with his whole being, becoming one with them…

_“This is your punishment.”_

Keith’s head shot up, coming face to face with his mother. Lips quivering and chest heaving as he swallowed drily, he tried to just ignore her.

She was gone, so why was she here?

He’d just go home and catch up on some sleep after this whole disaster, he’s been running on less than usual these past days, right, that had to be it—

_“Your punishment for rejecting me…”_

Thin fingers brushed against his cheeks, and he was going from feeling too hot to really cold and back again in record time; shivering uncomfortably as her breath tickled his ear.

_“… and for rejecting my dream.”_

Her hands met at the back of his neck. One of them carded through the long strands of his hair, while the other secured his throat so he couldn’t turn away.

This was impossible.

He shouldn’t be feeling how she leaned in closer to him, her cheek now pressing against his; same with their chests.

She shouldn’t even _be here—_

_“You understand that, don’t you, Keith?”_

His breath caught within his throat.

The woman only chuckled and blew a soft stream of air into his ear.

Keith closed his eyes.

* * *

 

Allura couldn’t believe what she was experiencing.

The irritated murmurs uprising around her just confirmed it.

He played the intro just fine, without missing a single note!

So it was true?

That this young man on stage couldn’t perceive his own playing?

Because this…

Was clearly the sound of a child, writhing in agony.

* * *

 

He didn’t need to _hear_ to _know_.

Everything within him was howling at him; ‘This isn’t Chopin!’

_“This is your punishment.”_

She was wrong.

_“The notes have abandoned you…”_

Wrong!

A scream crawled its way up the tightness of his throat and he had to painfully bite down on his cheeks to keep it locked inside.

He worked hard, _so_ hard, just for her! So _why_?

_“The piano is you, remember? No matter how hard you pound it… It won’t answer you. Will it?”_

He could make it work again and get it to answer, somehow!

_“The reason you’re so lonely…”_

Her fingers brushed against his head one last time, before they slid off and away from his face.

_“The reason you’re all alone…”_

Slowly, she released him.

_“… the reason for those is your punishment.”_

Keith had heard enough.

Pondering a decision, he carefully let the tension fade away from his playing.

Maybe… he’d just stop.

He probably just expected too much after last time; he got too ahead of himself for once.  
If he entered this competition, he thought that something would change.

Well, he was wrong, apparently.

His fingers kept slowing down as he tilted his head back, blinking up at the bright, stinging lights littering the ceiling above.

They certainly looked like stars today.

Didn’t Lance mention something like that before they parted today?

Oh, well.

It didn’t matter anymore.

His eyes were burning; from being exposed to such a bright light for too long, as well as from fighting the tears that were threatening to spill any second now.

And with one last, trembling breath and a bitter smile, his hands brushed against the edges of his seat.

It really, really didn’t matter at all anymore.

* * *

 

“He… stopped playing? He really did it?”  
“So the prodigy has fallen back to earth, huh…”  
“What does this mean…?”  
“Disqualified. He won’t be evaluated.”

Pidge closed her eyes and let her chin drop against her chest.

“Yeah. No matter the reason… if you cut your performance short, the competition is over for you…” Lance whispered quietly.

She didn’t bother to look up.

This was it.

Keith had given up.

She couldn’t afford to do the same, now.

So, she kept her eyes closed, and her hands clasped together still.

She _couldn’t_.

* * *

 

Oh, boy.

(the stars continued to shine over his head)

It was over now, wasn’t it?

(just like he told him they would before the show)

That day, too.

(colorful, bright and merciless)

As soon as he stopped playing, the competition was over for his friend.

(just like him)

So what was it Lance continued to play for?

(huh?)

There was nothing left to win.

(oh.)

Keith’s eyes widened.

Except…

Turning his head, he stared into the dark space where he knew the audience watched and suddenly, he _knew_.

His neck snapped back around to steer his line of sight towards the familiar, monochrome keys once more; his fingers shot up so fast his elbows popped, but his hands lowered themselves gently as his foot pressed down on the pedal.

Gasps exploded in his head like fireworks, and even though he still couldn’t hear anything else, he kept moving.

_The important thing is the imagery…_

He knew he went too fast still.

But his fingers kept dancing, and it felt _right_.

_How do you want to play this piece?_

His hair was as messy as could be, starting to fall into his face and stick to his cheeks.

_For what… or for whom, did you continue to play that day, Lance?_

He had a guess.

He wasn’t sure.

_“Friend A!”_

_“I know, okay? But I still want you.”_

_“I hereby appoint you as my accompanist!”_

… Oh.

His mind went back to the time when Lance fell asleep in the music room; propped up against the wall beneath a window, with Keith’s jacket draped over his peaceful form.

Back to the time, when he finally managed to play.

 _This_ was his image.

And he was going to keep playing for Lance;

Just like Lance continued to play for him that time.

Lips perking up into a small smile, he forced his hands to keep calm.

* * *

 

Lance leaned forward until he sat on the edge of his seat. His eyes were hurting from being this wide almost the whole time, but he couldn’t help it!

Keith’s playing changed yet again.

The opening was as robotic as a computer’s; following the score to the note, scaringly accurate…

Midway through it sounded like a sobbing child, pounding the keys desperately.

Three times he transformed, to the point where one could think there were three different pianists playing.

And not only the way he played changed…

Lance’s face was glowing.

The sound did, too.

* * *

 

Allura closed her eyes contentedly.

The notes – they were sparkling!

And just for a while, she found herself in a déjà-vu sensation;

For a while, she was back in that field of sunflowers she recognized too well by now.

Back with the sunflowers that made her pick her future.

* * *

 

Keith couldn’t stop the shrill but quiet laughter from bubbling out of the depths of his chest.

He stopped playing midways.

Heck, he’ll be disqualified!

His head flung back once more, to stare up at the improvised sky above him with wonder.

Ah, yes. It was really calming.

The sky he looked at back then all alone, when he went home in silence after another successful competition, always seemed like it was about to swallow him up whole; it was infinite and pressuring at the same time.

He was afraid of the sky for a long, long time.

The starry sky he looked up at with Hunk seemed capricious…

And the sky he looked up with Pidge on his back appeared so incredibly brilliant, it looked unstable.

Well…

He closed his eyes and lowered his head again.

Keith was excited to find out if Lance would ever show him a different sky than the ones he’s seen so far.

* * *

 

Lance could hear Pidge mumbling under her breath as she clasped her hands in front of her face, her eyes squeezed close in hope; and he was pretty sure that Hunk was gnawing away on his fingernails in anxiety, eyes big and glued on the stage.

Well, he couldn’t blame them, really.

What Keith was doing to them was absolutely nerve wrecking!

His ass hurt from continuing to perch on the edge, but he didn’t want to move; too scared to miss any signs.

Right now, Keith seemed absolutely calm. Wearing a soft smile, he had closed his eyes while his shoulders loosely swayed along to his fluid movements.

Lance didn’t miss the way he looked up at the ceiling, then towards the audience and even into their direction, before staring back up again and he couldn’t help but wonder what went through the other’s head at that time.

He huffed.

Well, whatever it was…

Seems like Keith found it.

His imagery.

* * *

 

He playfully hummed along; nothing could dim his spirits anymore.

Not even that he still couldn’t hear the sound.

There was the smell of chalk filling his senses;  
A window with unsightly cracks.  
The noise of distant sport teams.

The shadows of blooming flower petals being blown into their space.

The faint breathing of someone asleep.

Yeah. He could feel it.

His imagery was changing, one last time.

* * *

 

_Keith’s hands halted midair, letting the last note ring out against his useless ears._

_Cautiously, he peeked over the sheets; when he couldn’t see, he leaned sideways to look past the piano._

_Lance was still fast asleep, mouth hanging slightly open as he snored softly; Keith was surprised he didn’t drool._

_He couldn’t help the smile lifting the corners of his lips and he leaned back, straightening his spine again and slowly putting his fingers back down.  
_ _There was the dull, far away sound of a play ringing through his mind, and it was a start._

_Yeah, he could work with that._

_*_

_A few feet away from him, Lance snuggled happily into the warm jacket._

_And if he failed at suppressing a relieved smile, nobody was there to see it.  
(But, hey. Judge him.)_

* * *

 

Keith was determined to pull through now, until the bitter end.

He didn’t care about the judges.

Not about the audience, either; not the way Lance cared.

Only someone sitting in that audience mattered.

His mother’s watchful eyes kept burning holes into his back, but that was something he could ignore now.

_Thank you._

He knew that he needed to be careful.

_Thank you, thank you, thank you!_

It was hard to stop his emotions from pouring straight into his playing.

_Thank you, thank you…_

Finally, the tears he’s been holding back since a while now, began to mix with the sweat dripping off his face.

_Thank you_

_So_

_Much._

* * *

 

Hunk just barely managed to not chew his thumbnail right off.

He was anything but an expert regarding music, but even he could feel it!

Pidge was crying silently, and he had to fight back his own tears.

And Lance…

Well, if the way the lanky boy was burying his face into his elbows where they rested on the seat in front of him with tense shoulders was anything to go by…

Hunk guessed that he was right and the feels were real, and he wasn’t imagining things.

He considered putting a hand on his friend's twitching back, but for some reason it seemed too private; nothing for him to witness.

So instead, he reached out to grab Pidge’s hand to squeeze in comfort.

If she pressed back tightly, then only to confirm that none of them would talk about this later.

Or, like.

Ever.

* * *

 

_I can hear his soft breathing as he sleeps, like a cat…_

Keith took a deep, only slightly choked up breath.

_The worst first impression ever._

_The guy who likes my best friend…_

Man, his eyes were starting to really annoy him, with the way they wouldn’t stop burning!

_Will it reach him?_

He gave it all he got at this point; he had literally nothing left to offer.

_I really, really hope it reaches him._

* * *

 

Lance thought he was going crazy.

But he really, really couldn’t hold back anymore!

Laughing, he shot up, running a hand through his hair.

Pidge and Hunk winced and looked over to see what it was about, and then exchanged questioning looks when they found him grinning, combined with a glistening and blotchy face.

“He’s back! Finally, he’s back!” He whispered loudly, once more laughing happily.

The irritated voices trying to shush him didn’t ruin his mood, either.

So all in all, everything was good.

Really, really good.

* * *

 

A gentle purr filled his ears.

_“It’s just like that boy said…”_

Slightly, he perked up; the sound of rustling candy wrappers way too familiar to ignore.

_“Music is freedom! So you’re free right now, too.”_

When something soft brushed against his legs for a second, he didn’t look down; instead, he smiled in gratitude and hoped it would reach her, wherever she was, too.

* * *

 

She finally dared to face the stage.

Allura blinked.

For just a second, she was pretty sure to actually see the little boy surrounded by sunflowers from years ago.

But then the image flickered and disappeared, and the older Keith sat there; His posture was just the same, with his head held high and his fingers whirling playfully over the keys.

Instead of sunflowers, though, it was now a field full of Hydrangea, she recognized. As the pianist’s hands moved, a gentle breeze played around on stage; sending the plant’s soft and colorful petals flying all over the place.

She wanted nothing more than to reach out and catch one, but she knew it’d probably look weird.

So she just let them be and continued to watch the boy and the flowers’ play.

Oh, how she missed it.

* * *

 

Silence.

It filled the hall’s atmosphere as his chair scraped back, through to the point where he stood up, until to when he finally stood in the center of the stage and took his final bow.

For a while he stayed like that, until it strained his back too much and he lifted his head again; still panting slightly.

But the smile never left his lips.

Only then reluctant and scattered applause rose from the audience, confused whispers joining in.

Well.

It was more than he expected, honestly.

Not that it mattered.

There was only one person he needed to impress – and he hoped to whatever power there might be, that it reached him.

His eyes travelled up the rows of seats, to where he knew his friends sat; but movement tugged his attention elsewhere.

To the left, next to an entrance.

His mother’s special seat.

Keith couldn’t help but stare; her pale face sticking out of the crowd like something alien.  
What he knew to be her chapped lips were opened in a small gasp.

Then, it was as if she finally sensed his gaze on her – she slightly turned, and it looked like she was staring at him straight on now.

Reaching up, she pushed her bangs out of her face; finally, he could make out her dark, wide eyes, which were so very similar to his own pair.

Her hand rested against her cheek, and then suddenly –

She was outright beaming.

His mother’s eyes closed as she pressed her fist to her chin, shoulders raising in what he recognized as one of her quiet chuckles as she smiled.

 _“Keith! Holy fuck, you did it!”_  
_“I can’t believe this! What the shit, this was crazy!”_  
_"G-Guys, tone it down, w-we… A-Ah, sorry, sorry! I apologize for my tactless comrades…”_

Keith blinked, eyes wandering towards the outburst of voices for a second, and his lips widened into a grin.

His gaze flickered back right away when it actually dawned on him what just happened.

By then, though, his mother was long gone; as if she was never there at all.

She really was just a projection of his mind, after all.

* * *

_The bitter in you_

_And the quitter in me_

_Is bigger than the both of us._

**_\- Marianas Trench - Lover Dearest -_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hydrangea - a flower which still raises debates about its meaning. what everyone can agree on, though, is that it represents of something that is incredibly, sincerely heartfelt. the most common symbolism i could find, is the one of "gratitude, especially towards understanding" so ye here you go
> 
> *me, using my squealing 14 year old little girl voice* but, keith, that's, like, *stage whispers* g aY
> 
>  Edit: I CANT BELIEVE I FORGOT CORAN IN THIS WHOLE THING LMAOO (PLS KILL ME)
> 
> also, I love the song 'Lover Dearest' so much?? like. if somebody would be singing it, it'd be Keith. but i leave my thoughts towards /whom/ he'd sing it to to myself for now :')) ahh so many options (and no. i know his mother would be the obvious choice, but guys. guys. not the /only/ choice)
> 
>  
> 
> ... well then back to the important fic stuff  
> i'll try to upload again next week, which should work, since i only have to work on sunday; so i'm free to edit and do stuff on saturday!!
> 
> On November 5th and 6th, though, I'm travelling to Vienna to see two of my favorite bands?? and ahh??? two days, two concerts, two faves, standing in line for hours each day, yes. life is great. (i'm gonna die)  
> ... as you can probably tell i'll be pretty busy that weekend and won't update then, sorry! 
> 
> that is all, i think. thank you guys for your support and sticking around (and also for putting up with me lololol)  
> as always, hit me up on my tumblr, and tell me whenever if something bothers you, and i'll try to fix it!
> 
> i got multiple remarks about the warnings already, do any of you know how i could show them better? i tagged them, and try to mention them in the A/N in the beginning, but if it's not enough yet please tell me how to fi x


	11. Heroes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another supporting character makes his first appearance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i kinda love the first part but i hate the middle/final part while i guess the really-final part is kinda fine  
> is it only me oor whatever
> 
> but oh well
> 
> the most important part--
> 
> /slams fists on table while chanting/ K L A N Ce  
> but also  
> K L A N G S T

Heroes were powerful.

Heroes were lonely…

… And in the final stage, they always walked off alone.

 _He_ was just like that, too.

Yeah.

Coran’s hero was just like that.

* * *

 

Keith’s feet stayed rooted to the stage;  
The cool air brushing against his wet skin whenever he moved even in the slightest made him shiver, breathless gasps kept rattling his chest, his hair was a sticky mess and the bright lights stung his meanwhile sensitive eyes.

Still nothing more than scattered applause was all he got from the confused audience.

Oh, well.

The pianist huffed, puffing up his cheeks and blowing a few strands of hair back out of his face.

Not like it mattered, anyway.

_“There will now be an intermission…”_

* * *

 

When he made his way into the entrance hall to meet with his friends, he crossed paths with the judges.

Their eyes fell on him, instantly making him feel small beneath their stern and disappointed stares.  
Keith bent his head as he walked past them and kept his gaze trained on the ground.

A cold, deep voice made him freeze, though.

“A competition is a sacred garden of music. Under no circumstances is it a place to find yourself, boy.”

With that, they continued towards wherever they were heading to.

His slick hands curled into fists while his teeth painfully bit down on his lower lip, brows furrowing in irritation.

Or was it anger?

_Frustration?_

“Still the same old geezer, huh? He’s even escalated with old age now – God help us all. Don’t tell him I said that though, please.”

Keith’s eyes widened.

Just when the low, familiar chuckle reached his ears, his head snapped up to turn towards the new voice next to him.

Shiro stood next to him, gently smiling down at him; raising his prosthetic hand to give a small wave in greeting.

“Hey, buddy.”

“Takashi?” Keith whispered, flinching back almost immediately.  
Of course it was him, of course, so why did he even ask?

Shiro pouted childishly and kicked the younger man’s knee.  
“I told you, it’s Shiro! Respect your elders already!” He scolded playfully.

Keith couldn’t stop staring.

“You cut your hair,” he stated meekly, eyes fixated on his friend’s undercut and white tuft of hair.

The other hummed in agreement, absently reaching up to brush back said bangs.  
“Yeah, it was starting to become necessary. It’s been a while after all, Keith.”  
His expression softened.  
“It has really been a long time… hasn’t it?”

Keith pursed his lips and defensively crossed his arms over his chest; averting his eyes in a weak attempt not to crumble beneath the concern showing through in those big, dark eyes he knows so well by now.

_“Oh my God. Fuck. Hey, are you seeing this? Damn, he’s hot. Hey, hey, who is he?”_

_“Huh. I’m sure I’ve seen him around before...”_

_“Oh, oh! Pidge! Wasn’t he always with Keith’s mom? I thought they were, like, friends in college or something. And that’s how they know each other? I think?”_

_“Ah, yeah, you’re right – and now that you mention it, he’s also our leading pianist, isn’t he?”_

_“Shit. How could you forget that? But – that’s him? Dear Lord in the heavens above have mercy on my poor soul. Guys, I’m so gay. Did you know that I’m gay? Now you do. I’m so totally gay.”_

_“Aren’t we all, Lancer…”_

Keith tensed when the whispered – but still pretty loud – voices filtered into his brain.  
He half went to turn around, to find what he was sure to be his friends hovering somewhere behind him, but a shadow in the corner of his vision had him whirling back again before he could complete the task.

Shiro’s hand already retreated to scratch his cheek shyly.

“Sorry, sorry. I forgot that you… Well. Sorry.”

He let go of a shaky breath he didn’t even know he was holding.  
“’s fine,” he mumbled, blinking rapidly a few times.

Then, hesitantly this time, Shiro reached out again.  
“Can I…?” He trailed off.

Keith tightened his grip on his arms.  
“Sure,” he added, just so whispered under his breath; nodding sharply.

Slowly, so that he had time to move away if he suddenly wanted or needed to, Shiro stepped closer; inch by inch raising his hands further up.

Just before the set of arms embraced him – one warm, the other cold to the touch –, he closed his eyes.  
Before he knew it, there was a hand carding through his slightly greasy, still a little tied back hair and kneading his neck while another was rubbing circles and other soothing figures into his lower back.

All he could do was stand there as rigid as a board, arms almost cramping up at this point.  
It was too much, too sudden and unexpected, too overwhelming – his body felt heavy and hard to keep upright.

Keith let his head plummet forwards and his forehead met something soft and warm.

A low, humorless chuckle made the surface beneath him vibrate.

“You’re still so skinny… but you’ve grown taller,” Shiro hummed into his ear.

He didn’t answer.  
Instead, he nuzzled his face into the older man’s shoulder some more.

“Stop that, people are staring. It’s embarrassing,” he croaked after another few seconds passed in silence.

They probably were.

He wasn’t looking.

And even though he kind of meant it, he didn’t really back off, either.

So, Shiro only huffed out a quiet laugh.

Neither of them moved.

* * *

 

_“Hey, Takashi! Hold him, will you?”_

_“E-Excuse me? Me?”_

_Jin-Ri rolled her eyes with a huff, holding out the bundle she was holding.  
“Well, who else could I be talking to? Of course you, stupid!”_

_Shiro frowned, taking a step back and raising his hands; eyes flickering to his right one immediately, before he could avoid it.  
“Sorry, Jin, it’s nothing against— like, y’know, I just—“_

_“None of that! I know exactly what you’re getting at, and I’m not having it. Look, I don’t mind. I don’t care. And neither does he, alright? Now, palms up.”_

_The young man’s eyes widened, just raising his hands in time before the child was thrust into his unprepared and clumsy hands._

_“W-What— Jin-Ri!”_

_His close friend smiled, tugging gently at his arms and fingers._

_“Here, support his head… like this, yeah. Hold him against your chest— like that, yes! Perfect!”_

_She stepped back with a smirk now, watching him fumble until he realized that he was_ actually carrying another human being on his arms _and his eyes jumped down; the panicked rambling escaping his lips dying down without a further sound._

_The little boy was sleeping soundly; his soft and even breaths clearly audible to the tall man’s ears.  
Small fingers were curled into loose fists beneath a slightly chubby chin, and as the child was trying to cuddle closer to its new heat source, the surprisingly thick hair disheveled even more in the process._

_“Watch your strength, Takashi.”_

_Shiro almost dropped the barely notable weight as he startled._

_“I-I’m sorry, Jin, I didn’t realize— here, you take him again—“_

_He wanted to hand her child back to where it belonged, but she only shook her head with another roll of her eyes; she did that a lot.  
Jin-Ri continued to move towards the couch and sat down, waving him over too._

_Shiro hesitantly followed, taking a seat opposite her; now even more aware of his every move._

_“Relax, you’re doing fine. I was just reminding you – his father tends to forget, so I thought it wouldn’t hurt to mention it,” she spoke up, her dark purple eyes dimming a little. With a strained smile, she leaned over the coffee table between them.  
“Isn’t he adorable? His name is Keith!”_

_“Yeah, he really is,” Shiro agreed quietly; still in awe that he was actually_ holding _him – holding_ Keith _._  
_And the boy even continued to nap – apparently not even bothered by the weird arm supporting his back and legs._  
 _One thing he just had to get off his mind, though—_  
 _“But he’s so…”_  
 _His cautious voice drifted off into thin air._

_Jin-Ri pursed her lips, accompanied by a pinched frown creasing her face._

_“Keith, he— he came too early. I mean, he’s fine now, the doctors said he is, but— he’s still so… fragile. Too light, too small. He sleeps more than babies usually do, too…”  
The woman reaches out to slip her right index finger into one of Keith’s little fists, and Shiro watched with a strange fascination how it unconsciously just barely wrapped around his mother’s. _

_Suddenly, her smile turned into one of relief._  
_“He’s cold often and really pale most of the time, but, look— with you, his cheeks are all rosy!”_  
 _She brushed her thumb over the small back of his hand once and then pulled away; leaning back into the couch._

_For the first time he saw how tired she looked._

_“Jin…” He whispered, and he could feel his own frown forming._

_Again, she rolled her eyes and waved it off._  
_“Don’t worry, don’t worry. I do it enough for the both of us, even though… even though I know he’s fine. He will be. He just needs love and care for now, that’s all.”_  
 _Her face suddenly lit up._  
 _“Oh, Shiro, he’s such a lovely child! I can count the times he whined or cried on one hand! When he’s awake, he’s always so eager to explore and loves to cuddle. I really wonder how it will be to see him grow up, what his interests are going to be…”_

_His friend sighed dreamily, a content smile playing around her lips._

_“Do you want to turn him into a pianist?” Shiro asked curiously._  
_It was rare to see the woman be so calm and passionate about something or someone._  
 _Usually, she carried a sharp tongue and wasn’t good with words; wasn’t good at expressing herself properly, especially around strangers._

_“God, no!” Jin-Ri exclaimed, obviously completely terrified._

_The boy in Shiro’s hold stirred and so he shushed his mother without a second thought._  
_Wide eyed, she slapped the palm of her hands over her mouth._  
 _Lifting them and cupping them around her lips instead, she inched to the edge of the couch and bent over the table again._

_“Sorry, sorry. Well, not if I can help it… That’s such a demanding job! He’s my treasure, Shiro,” she stage-whispered, blinking at him and plopping back again; her back hit the soft surface, bouncing a few times until she sat completely still.  
Slender fingers reached up to twirl long, black hair around._

_She didn’t meet his eyes._

_Her lips moved, but he wasn’t sure he heard her right._

_“Come again?” Shiro blinked questioningly._

_“Ah, nothing, nothing,” Jin-Ri waved it off._

_She did that a lot, too._

_With a smile, she proceeded to watch her son sleep in silence; all it did was confirm that he understood her exactly right._

“I’ll protect him and take care of him, no matter what it takes… nae salang.”

_*_

_Shiro couldn’t help but stare wide eyed at the little boy sitting next to him; only a few tender years of age, yet already working the keys like a professional while he quietly sung along.  
His voice was still timid and shy, hesitant to express himself loudly to the world, but Keith tried and it was a good start._

_He didn’t even realize that he was being stared at, until he finished the piece and turned to look up at Shiro with a small smile._  
_It fell as soon as the older man just continued to watch him without a word._  
 _Keith fiddled with the sleeves of his shirt nervously, occasionally glancing up, but not daring to ask what was wrong._

_So Shiro finally ruffled his hair and laughed._

_When Keith joined in, there was only one thing on his mind._

_*_

_“Jin, Jin! You have to turn Keith into a pianist! He’s a genius!”_

_The woman seemed unsure; gripping her upper arms with her hands, she leaned against the stove.  
Pursing her lips and frowning (it was all he ever saw on her face anymore), his friend abused her lower lip with her teeth._

_“I don’t know, Takashi…” She replied quietly.  
Her face was pasty white and she seemed really worn out._

_Immediately, his enthusiasm crumpled._

_“Maybe… think about it?” He added unsurely._

_Jin-Ri smiled one of her small smiles; the dark circles beneath her eyes lifting along with her gaunt cheeks._

_But she agreed to keep it in mind._

_Shiro offered to take over preparing dinner for them._

_His friend went to join Keith in a nap on the couch and they didn’t wake up until he was finished._

_*_

_“… h-help m-me… s-somebody—!”_

(I’m so sorry, Keith)

_“M-Mom, p-please… mo-mommy—“_

(I’m sorry, I’m sorry—)

_“I’m s-scared, I-I’m so– so s-scared…”_

(It’s all my fault, I’m so sorry)

* * *

 

“You’re so tall now, Keith,” Shiro whispered brokenly; voice cutting off on the other’s name.

Finally, there was a set of thin fingers latching onto the hem of his shirt.  
Only one hand, for now, but he’d take anything he could get from this boy.

“You smell like oil…”

He barely heard it, but he _did_ and he was _glad_ , so he chuckled blankly.  
“Been around my bike a lot lately,” the taller man explained quietly.

Keith huffed as if what he just said was funny, even though it wasn’t, and Shiro was actually serious about it.  
Then, he moved to push away, and Shiro let him; let his own embrace loosen, so Keith could slip out of it without feeling pressured.

He kept his head low, let his hair hide his face from view until he used his free hand to play with it and looked up.  
His purple eyes were slightly glassy and his cheeks were flushed and Shiro was kind of glad about that, especially when Keith offered an earnest smile.

“Sorry,” he said, and it stung his heart.

“Don’t be. You know that,” the adult replied softly.

Keith didn’t reply.

So Shiro’s gaze wandered over the boy’s shoulder and he smirked.  
“Well, your friends are staring at us with the scariest faces, so I’ll be taking my leave. You know how and where to find me now, do you?”

Wide eyed, Keith stepped forward, even already halfway reaching out again before holding his hand against his chest awkwardly.  
“A-Ah, yeah… But, uhm…”

Shiro watched him fumble around for a while, before opening another conversation.  
“Well, you’re staying for the results, right?”

Eventually, their eyes met again.

“Oh… No, not really. I’m out of the run anyway, and… I’m not really here for them.”

He cocked his head in silent question.  
“Is that so? Well… Even so, you should be there when the results go up. It’s important,” Shiro argued with a frown.

Keith’s expression turned dangerously hollow, so Shiro hurried to bump their shoulders.  
The other barely flinched, so he ignored it as good as he could.  
“Hey, by the way, which one of them is it?”

Keith blinked and turned to look up at him.  
“Who is what?”

Shiro turned the both of them around.

Three faces displayed the look of absolute horror and regret all at the same time, trying to hide behind the pillar they peeked out from.

Satisfied, he watched the usual pale face turn into a tomato as soon as realization hit.

“Shiro, please! It’s not like that!” He whined and Shiro threw an arm around those slim shoulders; his victim was too busy squirming to do anything else.

“You know there’s no use lying to me, bud.”  
A wink.

But again, he loosened his grip with a thin smile, so Keith could move away if he really wanted to.

“The way you played before… The piano was singing it all out, y’know. Saying, ‘I love you’…”

Keith stayed close to him, though, turning his head with wide eyes.

Shiro almost winced.  
Instead, he calmly voiced his thoughts.  
“Are you really unaware, or just pretending not to notice?” He wondered quietly, only for their ears to hear.  
“Your hidden emotions, the side of you which you never really knew before… the piano will drag it all out of your whole being, no matter what. Brace yourself, kiddo.”

For a second, he hesitated.

Then he reached out and ruffled Keith’s hair.

This time the boy didn’t flinch beneath his touch; standing as still as one could, probably barely even breathing.

“Well… I’ve got places to be, so I’ll be going now,” Shiro offered, letting his hand slip from the top of Keith’s head onto his shoulder.

“I’m around for a while now; we’ll surely see each other again soon. Good luck, Keith, and take care, yeah?”

Before he could change his mind, he took his hand off and turned around; just so catching the wary “You, too…” as he strode through the entrance and out into the cool spring air.

* * *

 

Keith watched the doors close behind his old friend, then proceeded to slowly turn around.

His friends were all just standing there, expressions mixed and all over the place.

Lance, who stood a little further behind than Hunk and Pidge, then settled to come over with wide steps and big, blue eyes.

_… It really, really wasn’t like that._

_This was just…  
Gratitude._

After sharing a look, the rest of his friends followed; bickering loudly over something he couldn’t really focus on.

_After all…_

Lance now stood in front of him—

_He doesn’t like me._

Telling him how much he messed up—

_Also, I’m…_

Complimenting him on how well he got his shit together.

_I’m only Friend A to him._

_“We will now post the names of those who cleared the first round of the preliminaries…”_

* * *

 

Coran’s eyes scanned the list of names over and over, again and again.

But Keith’s name didn’t just magically appear one time.

Well.

Heroes don’t succumb…

Heroes don’t crumble.

His hero did, right in front of him.  
And even though he got himself back together right afterwards, it wasn’t enough to win.

It scared him to know that heroes could fall and fail.

* * *

 

Even though he said he wouldn’t stay, he stayed.

He was even one of the first ones to show up and wait for the all deciding sheet of paper.

Now his eyes were uselessly roaming over the list of names.  
Keith huffed with a bitter smile.

Just as expected.  
He _did_ stop playing midway, after all…

Somebody around him started crying, and suddenly it was like a chain reaction.

People cheered, some sobbed, others just tried to shrug it off with smiles and dismissive gestures.

Him?

It didn’t faze him at all.

So he turned around to take his leave.

Keith didn’t get far, though.

“Wait!” A voice called out, and he looked up through his bangs just to find himself face to face with one of his rivals.

Ah.

Coran Bonham. Right.  
He saw the guy’s name on the list.

His gaze wandered over the tall boy’s shoulder to his equally tall friend.

Allura Griffin, too.

They both made it.

Good.

“What was up with that performance?” Coran demanded fiercely, dragging him out of his thoughts.

Keith blinked and opened his mouth to answer, but he didn’t know what to say.  
So, he stayed silent, protectively crossing his arms over his chest again.

Coran hissed out an irritated ‘ _tsk’_.  
“What have you been _doing_ all this time?!”

The Korean boy raised his shoulders and kept them there, his whole body tensing up.  
He had to take his eyes off from the obvious disappointment painted onto the other’s face.

“Flip-flopping between playing styles like that…”

Pursing his lips, he frowned at his feet.

“… And turning in such a train wreck of a show!”

After that, he was silent, and Keith glanced up.

Coran was obviously trying to work out the puzzle that was him, but apparently didn’t really get to a solution.

All he could think of to offer to that, was a small, honest smile tearing at his cheeks.

* * *

 

His hero was made of super alloy…

His hero never lost before.

He knew that if he stopped playing, he wouldn’t make it past the prelims.

So, why…

Why did he continue?

It was clear, even back then, that it wouldn’t be enough to win.

And heroes always win, no matter what.

Now, this…

This was like Keith Kogane was actually human.

“… Oh.”

His voice wasn’t strong and firm like a hero’s.

“I… see.”

It was quiet and he had to clear his throat so they could actually understand him.

“So… it really _was_ a train wreck, huh.”  
He reached up to scratch at his cheek in embarrassment, fingers shaking slightly as he garbled out a weak laugh.  
“Well… Then it means that I turned in another sloppy performance.”

He actually _shrugged_ and Coran’s eyes almost popped out of their sockets.

Allura’s gaze burned into the back of his head.

“But I wasn’t slacking at all… I practiced until I passed out, and I gave it my all! And if I still turned in a train wreck performance after all that, then…”

For a second he seemed lost in his own thoughts, until he blinked and looked back up at Coran with that _bloody_ smile—

“That’s who I am now. It’s the current me, playing with everything I’ve got.”

And with that, he raised his head and straightened his shoulders, brushing past him and Allura; leaving behind nothing but empty words.

Coran whirled around, almost trying to reach out for him again, like he so often used to in the past.  
Soon enough, though, his rival was out of reach, so he didn’t even bother.

“I bet he found it.”  
The ginger boy didn’t really specifically acknowledge Allura’s presence by his side.  
“A reason to play, I mean,” she added.

Slowly, he moved to face her and was surprised to find her beaming.

“… He changed,” Coran stated with a frown, not really knowing what to do.

Allura shrugged and nodded at the same time, creating a strange motion.  
“Did you not hear it?” She wondered, and at his puzzled expression she chuckled.

“After he began his play a second time… For just an instant, you could see a mischievous child peering out.”

She whirled around on the spot and headed back.

Coran hurried to run after his friend –

(at least to her he was still able to catch up)

* * *

 

Keith could feel his temper itch below his skin.

“Pidge, say something to him…” Hunk whispered, just barely audible to his ears. “It’s the first time, like, ever, that he lost! He must be really down!”

“You go talk to him! You’re a man, aren’t you?” Their shorter friend hissed back, not as quiet.

Keith sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, turning on the spot.  
The two of his friends startled violently and yelped.  
They sent him fearful looks.

“I’m fine, okay? I’m totally cool with this. Just, stop.”

“R-Right, stopping now!” Hunk laughed awkwardly, while Pidge now shot him a warning gaze; her eyes flaring up dangerously.

Keith smiled at her, which made her turn away with a frown.

Walking a few steps behind them, Lance stayed silent as he observed them with watchful eyes.

*

The warning sounds of a barrier lowering soon were ringing through the cool night air, but his mind was occupied elsewhere.

 _“A competition is a sacred garden of music._ _Under no circumstances is it a place to find yourself, boy.”_

His hands balled into fists.

_“What was up with that performance? What have you been doing all this time?!”_

Suddenly, his feet were moving faster.

_Robot._

_Human Metronome._

_His mother’s puppet._

Behind him, his friends were calling his name;

Traffic lights blinked warningly.

But, if he was a robot…  
If he was a puppet…

Why was he so affected by it all?

What was up with all those emotions welling up inside of him just now?

He didn’t know where they came from, they just suddenly clashed above his head like the ocean’s waves, now drowning him.

It wasn’t exactly bad, but it was overwhelming all of a sudden, and he needed to run, to be free for just a little longer—

Pulling the strap of his bag over his head, he let it drop onto the sidewalk without another thought.

Pidge at his back cursed as she staggered over it; Hunk raised his voice to call after him even louder.

Meanwhile he was almost outright running, and during his hurried jog he slid out of his flannel jacket, carelessly tying it around his waist.

Not far into the distance anymore, he could see the barrier, still holding up.  
Maybe he could make it before the two bars lowered themselves?

Red lights were blaring already, though, but maybe if he hurried… maybe if he ran faster, maybe he could leave all those scary things behind and make it home without them.

Something heavy crawled up his throat and he couldn’t swallow it down.

And then, before he knew it – a sound between a cheer and a scream erupted past his lips.  
It was gone fast because his voice broke really soon, it wasn’t used to being loud too long.  
Coughing and stumbling, eyesight blurring and knees suddenly like jelly, he expected to hit the pavement.

But just when the barriers in front of him fell with a sense of finality, a pair of strong arms caught him around his middle and spun him around once.  
The person holding him tripped backwards; and while he himself landed more or less soft, he could make out pained groans from behind him over the whooshing sound of the bypassing train.

Its strong breeze teared at his hair and clothes for the short time span of only a few seconds, and then it was gone again.  
Left behind was nothing but a deafening silence.

The red lights stopped blinking completely, while the bars slowly got back up again.

His eyes were wide and his head now blissfully empty.  
Keith didn’t realize he was shaking until big hands were rubbing over his bare arms, trying to calm his body down.

And it was then that he noted that he just tuned the available sound out to ignore it; now it slowly came back to him.

“…ow, did he— did he just, I don’t know. Maybe he had some kind of breakdown just now or something?”

“Do we look like we fucking know, Hunk?”

Suddenly, Lance crouched down right in front of his face, worry etched into his features.  
Keith blinked at him.

Lance blinked back.

“I-I don’t know, I just—“

“Why won’t you guys ever ask him directly for once?” Lance clicked his tongue disapprovingly.

“What?”  
Pidge shouldered Lance aside; the latter lost his balance and fell onto his ass with a stream of what sounded like Spanish curses.  
His old friend moved in so close until their noses almost touched and Keith could count the small set of tiny freckles littering her face.

She scanned his face, apparently looking for something; seems like she found it, because she then leaned back on her feet and crossed her arms, scowling.  
“You little shit. Are you alright?”

“Pidge, come on—“ Hunk softly spoke into his ear.

“No, Hunk, don’t ‘Pidge’ me. You should see him. He’s grinning like he just pulled some kind of joke on us.”

… Was he?

Oh.

Yeah, he was.

Oh well.

He couldn’t help it.  
Manic laughter bubbled within the depths of his chest and longed to get out.  
So, he let it.

Lance and Pidge gave him some more concerned looks and Hunk’s grip tightened a little, but now he couldn’t stop.

“I’m fine! Just peachy, yeah! Never been better!” Keith pressed out between fits of giggles, and they just wouldn’t stop.

With an annoyed sigh, Pidge dropped his bag between them – she must’ve picked it up when he dropped it – and just.

Sat down.

At their weird looks, she shrugged.  
“We all know this could take a while.”

And so there they waited it out on the sidewalk, around them nothing but the sounds of their laughter and above them only the silhouettes of stars.

Keith felt really drunk for some reason.  
Well, he never was drunk before, but he guessed that if he had to describe how drunk people felt, it’d be like this.

But he really, really hasn’t felt this relaxed in a long time.

That much was true.

He was fine.

* * *

 

“Mom, dad! I’m home!” Lance called into the empty bakery.

Almost immediately his mother came hurrying into the store.  
“Hey there, sweetheart. How was that boy, Keith?” She asked as he went to peck her on her cheek.

“Oh wow. Well, he was really entertaining, I guess?”

The petite woman frowned, hurrying to lock the front door.  
“What do you mean by that?”

Lance waved her off.  
“Details later, later! Where’s dad?”

“Upstairs. Probably working on the PC or something. Oh, there’s leftovers in the fridge if you want to heat some up. And also, a letter arrived for you today!”  
She moved back behind the counter, buzzing around for a while until she handed him a plain white envelope.

The violinist turned it within his grasp, weighing it.  
“Do you have an idea from whom?”

“No clue, dear. Just open it!”

Lance rolled his eyes and walked past her into the back of the shop, climbing the stairs up into their apartment.  
“I’m going to get changed and take a shower first!” He called over his shoulder.  
His mother made a noise of understanding before picking up her tasks again.

After he reached the top he was panting, bracing himself against the wall in the hallway.  
He took a second to catch his breath; then proceeding to hold on to the handrail with his left hand as he slowly made his way to his room at the end of the hallway.  
There he slipped into it and closed the door behind him, pushing off his shoes carelessly and making a beeline straight for his bed.

Lance let himself fall onto the soft mattress heavily, blankly staring at the ceiling for a few seconds as cold sweat ran down his face; chest still heaving with deep, rattling breaths.  
He raised the letter still in his hand in front of his face and blinked.  
When his vision finally cleared for the most part, his eyes found a small, easy to miss stamp in the corner of the back of the envelope, and he squinted.

Oh.

A knock on his door made him shove his full hand beneath his pillow as he mumbled an exhausted ‘yeah?’.

Holding it just as wide open as necessary, his mother leaned into his room with a curious expression.  
“So, do you know who it is from? What is it about? The letter, I mean.”

“Ah, a friend from school sent it! Kind of a joke, I guess,” he chuckled weakly.

The woman smiled.  
“I see. Well, then I’ll leave you to it. Dinner?”

“Later, thanks.”

She nodded and left again.

The Town Hall’s stamp burned into the palm of his hand treacherously.

* * *

 

Shiro frowned when he got directed to voicemail for the seventh time already.  
Once again, he pressed down on the door bell; holding it down even longer than before this time.

Still, the door stayed closed.

Now more than just worried, he reached out to use the door handle – and luckily, it wasn’t locked.  
He entered cautiously, stepping into a familiar hallway.

“Keith?” Shiro called out, voice raised. “It’s me, Shiro. Are you here?”

As if on cue, his eyes flicked down to find a pair of sneakers and a messenger bag thrown carelessly to the floor.

“Keith?!” He repeated. Even louder this time.

No answer.

Shiro didn’t even stay long enough to pull off his shoes (Keith would have his head for this later) and immediately rushed right in.  
His first stop was Keith’s room, but sure enough he found it empty; window tipped and bed made, sheets still straightened out.

There was no other option now.

Hurrying back into the hallway, his eyes roamed over all the closed and ajar doors staring back at him, before finally remembering the right one.

He stormed right inside with another call of the boy’s name, feeling like a hurricane.  
But in the doorway, he froze.

The piano stood tall and proud in the middle of the room, some boxes neatly stacked against the walls; its lid was open, so his gaze continued to wander as he carefully stepped inside now.

The closer he got, the more piano sheets were strewn all over the floor, some already more crumpled than others.  
What had him gasping and take his feet into his hands to run over to the piano’s seat, was the limp body lying between the seat and the instrument.

_“Keith!”_

Right away he found himself kneeling next to the young man, carefully turning him from his position on his side onto his back.  
Keith still wore the same clothes he was dressed in the day of the competition two days ago, and Shiro noticed how the fabrics clung to his skin.

His face was pale, purple shadows beneath his eyes sticking out like a set of bruises; both of his hands were red and raw, even scraped open in some places.  
Shiro was worried how his skin was cold to the touch.

As gently as he could, he slapped the other’s cheeks.  
“Keith! Keith, I need you to wake up. Can you hear me? Keith?”

Almost instantly the boy stirred, frowning and hissing before blinking his eyes open owlishly.

“Keith?” Shiro repeated, obviously relieved.

“Shiro…?” Came the hoarse reply; followed by a weak cough.

He sighed.  
“Thank Goodness. Yeah, it’s me. Stay low a little longer, alright?”

Keith only blinked some more.  
“H-Huh? But what are you— are you doing here? What’s… going on?”  
His eyes flickered towards the halfway opened curtains.  
“Good… morning?” He added in confusion, nose scrunching up in irritation over the whole situation.

Shiro rolled his eyes.  
“Morning to you, too. You didn’t pick up your phone, no matter how many times I called, so I got worried…” He explained, running a hand through his hair.

Keith clearly needed a second until the words clicked, because then he just went: “Oh.”  
Adding – “I think I… left it to charge, somewhere around here.”

Another sigh.  
“Alright, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it. Now, let’s get you settled somewhere else, shall we? Can you get up or do you need help?”

A heated glared made his hands retreat before they could really reach out.  
Keith slowly pushed himself up – first onto his elbows, then until he sat with his legs crisscrossed –, only wincing and blinking every now and then; otherwise, he seemed more or less physically fine, except for his hands.

“I’ll go take a shower,” Keith mumbled tiredly, rubbing at his eyes.

Shiro frowned.  
“You sure that’s a good idea?”

“There’s food in the kitchen, if you’re hungry, I guess…”

He watched the other pianist raise to his feet; and even though his movements were slow and sluggish still, his footing was steady enough, so Shiro let him stroll off.

Doors opened and closed as Keith rummaged around outside, and Shiro didn’t move again until he heard the sound of water running.  
Just barely suppressing another sigh, he began to gather the scattered sheets in his hands, stacking them carefully and placing them onto the piano.  
Gently, he lowered the lid to hide the keys from view.

(Keith was probably up and playing until he fainted, and he didn’t know how to feel about that.)

With one last, long look at the instrument that was curse and blessing all together, he decided to raid the kitchen for something edible.  
God knows he and Keith both needed it after all this.

*

Shiro put more food on the table than he was sure Keith knew what to do with, which soon turned out to be the case.

Keith walked into the kitchen – hair still dripping wet at the tips, wearing a big hoodie and soft, loose pants – and offered the menu one short, slightly uncomfortable look, before grabbing a banana out of the fruit bowl.  
Which he kind of expected, if he was honest; not that he liked it.  
What he didn’t see coming, though, was how the boy shot him an analyzing look before moving to turn on the coffee machine.

Not long after that, he placed down a cup in front of Shiro before sitting down in the chair opposite of him.

“Black still fine?”

Shiro startled at the abrupt question, blinking wildly to meet Keith’s eyes now.  
He seemed very much awake and alert, with a slight flush to his cheeks from the shower.

“A-Ah, yeah. Thanks…”

Keith nodded, peeling off the banana with delicate and careful fingers.

Shiro frowned at it.  
“You should eat more,” he suggested cautiously.

Keith huffed and rolled his eyes, taking an angry bite.  
“Not you too,” he muttered under his breath. “The Holts are feeding and pestering me about it enough.”

A moment of hesitation.  
Then, barely audible –

“Dad, too, the few times he bothers to show up.”

The adult carefully sipped at his coffee.  
“He still away on business?” He asked slowly.

Keith tried to shrug it off nonchalantly, but Shiro could see how tense his whole body suddenly was.

“Yeah. Still the usual. But, hey, it’s important to him, and he keeps sending me more than enough money to get by, so who am I to complain?”

Shiro wanted to answer so badly, even though the question wasn’t directed at him, probably wasn’t even meant for his ears to hear, it was spoken so quiet.

Every child deserved a father to protect and care for them; none should have to be forced to grow up and look out for themselves like Keith had to.  
He didn’t say that out loud, though.  
Instead, he changed the topic.

“Well… To be honest, I didn’t think you’d ever pick it up again. Playing, I mean.”

… Not exactly better.  
Well done, Shirogane.

Keith warily glanced up.  
“Neither did I,” he agreed softly.

At that, Shiro tilted his head, putting down his cup, letting the warmth seep into his hands.  
“So, what made you change your mind?”

He didn’t know what he expected this time.

But—

Keith shyly pulling up his shoulders as the blush on his cheeks intensified, bashfully blinking down on the surface of the table…

Wasn’t it.

* * *

 

Lazing around on the school’s roof was always an experience.

Even now, with Hunk and Pidge doing whatever next to him, and himself blearily blinking up at the pretty blue sky…

“It’s almost summer, huh?” He wondered out loud.

Just then, as if on cue, the door banged open.  
_“No!”_

Lance stumbled over to them, waving something white around in front of their faces, before eventually especially presenting it to Keith.

“I got an invitation from the Town Hall office just a while ago…”

“Oh, where you and Keith played?”  
Pidge sluggishly made a wet plopping sound as she pulled the candy out of her mouth.

Keith froze.  
“Is that, by any chance… the gala concert?” He whispered, eyes widening.

Lance grinned and gave him a thumbs up.  
“Bingo! It’s a recital to mark the heights achieved by the winners and other top performers at the Town Music Competition!”  
Splaying his fingers against his hips, his upper body bent down to stare at Keith with pursed lips.

“We’ve been invited as the promoter’s choice.”

“Wait, ‘we’?” Keith repeated suspiciously, trying to get his personal space back for now.

“Yup. Me, and—“ Lance raised the hand carrying the letter to press it into his face, “You!”

He could feel his blood running cold within his veins, as he reached up to tear the paper off his features.  
Not again, he wasn’t ready yet!

“Would you look at that! So the almighty duo is back and ready to slay!” Hunk mused happily.

“Not yet,” Lance argued softly, and Pidge wore a lasting frown.  
But the violinist’s attention stayed glued on Keith.  
“What about it?”

Keith tried to swallow, but his throat was too dry.  
He watched Lance’s hand on his hip curl into a fist.

“What… will you do?”

Keith took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

* * *

 

“Is our song set?”

Lance already rummaged through his bag.  
“Yeah, I want to do this one!”

Presenting it with lots of excitement, he held up a sheet.

Keith frowned as he took it to look it over.  
“But this is…”

“Kreisler’s Liebesleid. Love’s sorrow. Yes.”

His eyes widened.  
Memories long gone suddenly urged to breach the surface of his mind, but he tried to resist and pushed them back; storing them away, back to where they belonged.

Almost frantically, he handed the papers back.

“We’re playing _this_ at the gala? Normally you’d do something more major, more show-y; this one’s really subdued, and I don’t—”

“That’s okay,” Lance shrugged, playfully rolling his eyes with a smirk, “We’re just the throw-ins, anyway. With this, there’s no way anyone else will be playing the same song, and we’re bound to stand out more if we play something chill!”

He shoved the scores back into Keith’s hands, pressing them into his chest.  
There was a strange gleam lighting up his friend’s eyes he couldn’t exactly pinpoint.

Keith’s grip only tightened, crumpling the material on the edges.

“Let’s— Let’s do something else, something cooler!”

Lance ignored him; stalking past him to get to his violin case he put on the floor beneath a window.  
Crouching down, he opened it and lifted the instrument with tender movements.

For just a few seconds, he continued to perch there, and Keith was sure he could hear him mumbling something under his breath.

But then the moment was over already and he rose back onto his feet, violin ready at his side.

With a wide grin, he exclaimed: “All right! Let’s do this!”

And Keith couldn’t help but give in.

* * *

 

_“So, what made you change your mind?”_

_Keith couldn’t help it.  
Now that he thought about it, it all sounded so stupid and awkward, and that dumb smile just wouldn’t get off his face—_

_“One day in the beginning of spring, I met this really weird violinist…”_

_Shiro was absolutely silent, and Keith knew that he had his full attention._

_“Totally outrageous at times. Self-righteous. But his eyes and his smile both are so light, y’know? And when I got on stage after he almost literally dragged me up there… On a stage so familiar, he showed me a sight I’ve never seen before.”_

_Stalling for time, he took another bite of his fruit._

_“I… want to see it again, just one more time. That’s what made me think…”_

_A lighthearted laugh tumbled past his lips, his face heating up even more in the process.  
Keith reached up to play with his hair and couldn’t stop the grin from spreading on his features._

_Shiro looked absolutely thunderstruck._

_“… That I’d like to become a really weird pianist!”_

_For the next few seconds, one could hear the drop of a needle._

_Then, Shiro chuckled and reached over the table to ruffle his hair affectionately.  
“I see. Well, then who else but me to serve as your guardian?”_

_Keith perked up, eyes blown wide.  
“E-Excuse me?”_

_“Hey, what’s with that horrified expression?” His friend teased lightly, but it still made Keith wince with guilt._

_“Ah, n-no, no, sorry, it’s just…”_  
_His breath suddenly was kind of shuddery, but Shiro waited patiently._  
 _“I’m… kind of difficult,” he tried hesitantly._

_“It’s okay,” Shiro reassured him._

_“I…”_

_“I don’t mind.”_

_Was he trembling? Maybe._

_Was he crying? Absolutely not._

_“… Then, please… Teach me how to play again,” Keith breathed thinly._

_Shiro smiled, bowing his head just the slightest bit._

_“I’d love to.”_

* * *

 

“Come on! Are you even taking this seriously?”

Keith frowned in irritation, shooting Lance a venomous glare as they continued their walk home.  
“I am. We played together for the first time. That’s about what you should expect.”

“Are you— Oh! Look, look!”

Before he was able to process anything, Lance sped off the sidewalk, so he hurried to follow.

Keith found him a tad further down on the riverbank.  
But there he was surrounded by—

“Keith, look! Aren’t they pretty?”

Carefully, he slid down the little hillock, trying not to faceplant into the damp surface.  
When he came to a halt next to his friend, he needed to take a second to all just breathe it in.

“They are,” he muttered quietly.

Dozens of little lights were flying around; lighting up their environment and filling the air with gentle buzzing noises.

Lance suddenly snatched out a hand and pulled it back as a fist, and Keith was horrified.  
“Did you squish it?” He cried out.

The lanky boy smiled thinly.  
“Nah. Look.”

Opening his fist, they saw the little bug resting in his palm.

Its light pulsated slowly and evenly, like a steady rhythm.  
Lance looked ready to speak up again, but something seemed to hold him back; instead, he raised his hand into the air, and the insect used the opportunity to go back to its comrades.  
Then, he cleared his throat, made a fist again and raised it close to his mouth.

“Testing, testing!”

Keith frowned.

Lance grinned.

(what a pair)

“So, Mr Kogane, how was your first piano competition in ages?”

He stretched his hand out towards Keith.  
Finally he realized that it was supposed to portray a microphone.

The pianist could feel his forehead wrinkling as the corners of his mouth lifted.

“Well…”

He thought over his next words carefully.

“I certainly felt it, y’know,” he admitted, and Lance’s eyes glowed.  
Slowly, he lowered his hand, until they just stood face to face again.

“That everyone is hiding something, deep in their hearts…”

Coran’s enraged expression came to mind.

“For some, it might be hostility; maybe aspiration, or hopes. The desire to show off. For others…”

Allura’s frustrated features haunted him still, and he even found a memory of his younger self next to the young woman’s.

“For others, it’s to think, ‘Let it reach them’…”

Lance’s eyes were burning into his face, as he turned slightly to watch some fireflies.

“We all had our personal emotions to lean on. Maybe, to go on stage and succeed up there, you need something like this.”

“Well, what about you?” Lance retorted quickly, curiously trying to catch his gaze.  
“What did you have in your heart?” He added.

Keith took a surprised step back, trying to mull over what he would answer.

His brain to mouth filter was kind of gone that moment, though; because before he really realized it, his own unsure voice filled his ears.

“You. I— I had you.”

Lance’s eyes seemed to glisten as they widened slightly, lips parting in a silent gasp.  
All of a sudden he hurried to turn around, stuttering something about needing to get home as he staggered back up to the sidewalk.

Completely taken by surprise, Keith tried to catch up, but Lance was always a few steps in front of him.

Until they had to part ways, the air was drowned in silence.

Then, there was just the quietest voice being carried towards him by the wind after Lance took his turn into another street.

_“’You know, I’m not always going to be around to help you’…”_

Keith spun around on the spot.

But there was no trace left of his friend.

_“… Charlie Brown.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> nae salang = my love  
> (says google translator)  
> (just like always, feel free to correct me)
> 
> o shit waddup
> 
> Shiro is an oooold dad
> 
> i cant believe i wrote 8k today


End file.
